


Quite the Mess

by TheOriginalPancake



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anger Management, Character Death, Don't Like Don't Read, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone is Dead, Exes, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Heartbreak, Helpful Cole (Dragon Age), Hurt/Comfort, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Multi, Old Friends, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rewrite, Weird Plot Shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-01-17 08:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12361659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOriginalPancake/pseuds/TheOriginalPancake
Summary: After years of remaining hidden away in Kirkwall, Garrett and Marian Hawke respond to a troubling letter sent by one of their oldest friends. A hasty move which thrusts them back into the middle of the war across Thedas. Meanwhile the illegitimate love child of an elf and Ostwick noble emerges from a rift in the sky and shakes the world to its core.Can unlikely allies band together in time to make things right? Will all of the sacrifices made prove to be worthwhile in the end?





	1. Long Time No See

**Author's Note:**

> *Originally posted on FanFiction.Net under my pen name AmySoto. I have decided to take this fic of mine, make some huge alterations and repost here for a fresh start.*
> 
> Please forgive my lack of beta at the moment, and enjoy!

The light of the sun blared overhead through the high arched windows of the mansion and filtered down through the soft swirling dust to burn its way into Garrett’s skull. The scruffy mage let out a sigh as he opened his eyes.

Sleep had evaded him another night leaving him drained at the mere idea of lifting himself from the bed, but with a groan of effort he hefted his weight up and onto his feet. He dressed slowly as he had nothing to really do but he knew that remaining in bed would leave him feeling worse than he already was.  Another sigh escaped Garrett’s lips as he moved out beyond his chambers and into the upper walkway of his ancestral family home.

It was eerily silent as it had been every day since he had returned. Once Bethany’s musical voice and his mother’s scolding tone had echoed through the marbled stone. Bodahn and Orana could be found bustling about in a tither as they saw to the day to day chores, Sandal whimsically wandering in tow. His elder sister Marian’s laughter ringing through the high ceiling as she shared a cup of tea with Anders on the balcony, listening as the healer regaled her with outrageous tales from his time as a Grey Warden.

Garrett paused at the top of the main staircase leading down to the front room of the mansion. In another life a spikey gauntlet clad hand would have woven into his side then, a deep voice rumbling, _‘Good morning’_ …but Fenris had left Kirkwall nearly half a year ago. The big mage had not seen or heard anything from the elf since and he shook his head to clear it of the memories that pressed upon him.

Dwelling did little good. His elder sister was proof of that.

Just then the front door of the mansion opened and Garrett perked up as he caught the sound of Marian’s heavy boots thudding across the entryway floor. A moment later the tall auburn haired warrior appeared in the foyer below. Her sharp blue eyes darted up to where her younger brother stood and her thin lips instantly split into a smile.

“Good morning Brother,” she said as she tossed her gauntlets onto the low table to her left and uncoiled her long braid from the knot at the back of her head.

“Good morning Mar,” Garrett responded as he completed his decent. “How did your night patrol go?”

“Well enough. A few thugs decided to try their luck in the Alienage and as you can imagine that ended spectacularly for them.” The bearded mage chuckled at his sister’s cocky attitude as she moved to rifle through the small stack of mail sprawled across another table. “Did you sleep at all,” she asked as she plucked one of the missives from the pile.

“Not much, but some…please don’t worry about it Mar,” Garrett said holding up a hand in preemptive response to the worried sidelong look he knew she would cast his way. Marian shook her head.

“I am allowed to worry…” Abruptly Marian fell silent as she moved the missive in her hand closer to her face. Her breathing hitched and Garrett felt the fine hairs at the back of his neck stand on end at the look that passed over his sister’s face.

“What is it,” the big mage finally whispered, the old knot of fear settling in his stomach.

“It’s Varric, he needs us.”

 

 

Haven was on fire.

All around the sounds of fighting echoed through the mountains creating a pulsating wave of desperation and fear.

Down in the midst of the chaos Dorian Pavus found himself in uncomfortable close quarters combat. The fighting was beyond anything he had experienced before. Enemies poured from every direction and the ground beneath his feet was wet with blood, still, the Tevinter Altus never wavered. He had been at Tara Trevelyan’s side when the warning bells had started their clanging and as the foolishly noble woman raced towards the last standing trebuchet he had every intention of staying there.

He was glad the The Iron Bull, Cassandra and Varric were also with them.

After countless minutes of endless combat it seemed that they had made it to their intended target. Tara placed her bow at her back and with shaky hands moved to begin aiming the trebuchet. Suddenly an inhuman roar split the icy air and Bull shouted out a warning as a massive beast crashed through one of the nearby barricades. It took Dorian a second to accept what he was looking at. The towering pile of flesh and red lyrium took a few staggering steps towards them then raised its club like right arm.

“More coming,” Cassandra called out as the behemoth let out another roar and charged towards them. The grey eyed mage snapped to it then, hastily casting a barrier between their group and the incoming beast. The Iron Bull lowered his horns and took off at the thing, colliding with it in a flurry of strikes from his axe. The Altus forced himself to leave Bull to his own devices and turned his magic upon the group of Red Templars moving in from all sides. He danced across the battlefield in a blaze of fire only stopping when he came face to face with a knight.

The once human Templar sent a powerful Smite careening across the frozen ground. All Dorian could do was brace as the effect of the knight’s attack shook him to the core. Before he could recover enough to counter the Altus found himself on the business end of the red Templar’s shield. He was battered to the ground, his left shoulder erupting in pain as it collided with something solid.

Dazed Dorian rolled onto his side as he attempted to regain his feet. Time seemed to move slowly for a moment as he watched The Iron Bull buckle beneath a lofty blow from the behemoth. Then Tara was there drawing the monster’s attention with a series of explosive shots and luring it away from the stunned warrior. But more red Templars were coming up the pass from behind. The behemoth caught Tara with a sweeping pass of its spiky arm tripping the rogue up and causing her to slip into the blood wet snow.

They were overrun, and they hadn’t even bought Cullen and the others enough time to escape.

Out of nowhere a ferocious rage filled war cry rang out above the noise of the battle stunning a few of the red Templars in place. A large ball of fire slammed into the knight looming over Dorian, incinerating it instantly. As it faded to ash a towering woman clad in heavy armor rushed past the blinking mage and hurled herself at the behemoth like a blooded hound, giving Tara time to regain her feet.

A large hand closed around Dorian’s upper arm and dragged him back onto his own feet. The mage turned to thank his rescuer but his words failed him as his gaze collided with a set of deep blue eyes. The hulking man smiled down at him and pressed a vial of lyrium into his hands before turning and rushing towards where Varric stood raining down suppressing fire. Dorian downed the potion and threw himself back into the fight, silently wondering who these two newcomers were.

“Hawke!?” Dorian heard Varric cry out in a confused voice. “What in Andraste’s name are you two doing _here_!?”

“Helping,” a deep masculine voice responded as lighting lit the battlefield cooking many of the mutated Templars in an unforgiving chain. Dorian for one was impressed.

”Hawke,” Cassandra’s voice shouted in angry shock as she cut down another opponent, her eyes moving to accusingly glare at the dwarf.

“We can talk about this _if_ we survive okay Seeker.”

“You need to cheer up Varric,” the burly mage called out as he moved to flank Iron Bull, shielding the warrior as he carved a line to the trebuchet. Together the two hulking individuals managed to move the war machine into position just as Tara and the warrior woman managed to take down the former Knight Captain Denam.

For a moment the battle stilled, and the group of fighters all took a moment to breath. “Good work everyone,” Tara said as she moved towards the trebuchet. “We can still make it!”

A terrifying roar split the sky overhead and they all looked up. Time stood still as the Elder One’s dragon dove down towards them.

“Move now,” Tara shouted, shoving her nearest companions clear of the impending blast.

It was all a blur of terrific proportions after that.

Dorian watched Tara stand-alone before the Elder One and his pet dragon. An archer by trade, it had been odd to watch her heft a sword into her slim hands, shouting her defiance. “I am not afraid of you!”

 “A phrase many mortals say,” Corypheus had responded mockingly but Dorian had known that his friend meant every syllable. The truth of her words was punctuated when Tara swung the blade into the restraint cable of the trebuchet, letting it fire wildly into the mountain just behind where they all stood. The avalanche had come then and for all he had known Tara had vanished in the flurry of ice and snow.

For their part, Dorian and the others had raced to get to the Chantry before the snow swallowed them as well. They dove into the secret passageway, shoving and carrying one another down the narrow chute until they found themselves collapsing before the rest of Haven’s escapees on the side of some desolate mountain.

Cullen raced towards them then, shoving aside soldiers and civilians alike. “Tara…?” He asked, his voice tight, his eyes already dulling as he noted the Ostwick noblewoman’s absence. Cassandra shook her head and the blonde man nodded, his eyes then falling to two surprisingly familiar faces. “Garrett? Marian?”

“Hello Cullen,” the hulking mage said getting to his feet and moving to shake the commander’s hand. “Tell us how we can help. Do you have any injured? I can assist them.” The tall woman called Marian was the next to reach her feet, assisting Varric to his as she moved. Her blue eyes slowly fanned out over the crowd of huddled desperate looking people before her. “Heal as we move,” she said loudly. “We have to get going. If you are able bodied enough help your fellows, we must keep moving if we are to outmaneuver the horde.”

“Just like them,” Varric said quietly enough that only Dorian could hear, watching as the two newcomers moved forward into the throng. “Even when the problem isn’t theirs…”

 

 

Somehow, even with their collective moral shattered the Hawkes made what remained of the Inquisition stand as one. Marian headed the group alongside Cullen trudging through the snow as if she were well rested and leading nothing but the finest of soldiers. Garrett moved amongst the crowd, tending to the wounded and calmly helping to bury any who were beyond even his help. No one knew exactly who they were, though there were speculative whispers, and yet they followed without question. Those that remained needed someone to lead them and the Hawkes knew the chaos that could erupt should leadership fail.

For two days and nights they guided the numbed masses through the mountains before finally Cullen declared they were safe enough to make camp. People wearily pitched tents and coaxed fires to life, huddling close to one another seeking comfort and warmth, but in the wake of Tara’s death and surrounded by unforgiving terrain there was little of both.

The Hawkes moved towards the Inquisition leader’s tent and found the four advisors deep in the midst of an argument. Without a word the siblings slipped away and instead went in search of Varric. They found their old friend seated in the snow amidst a company of what were clearly mercenaries, one of whom they recognized as the Qunari who had been fighting alongside them back in Haven.

“Varric,” Garrett said the dwarf’s name quietly. A set of sharp eyes lifted to meet the mage’s gaze, warming at the sight of the colossal Ferelden.

“Hey you two, come have a seat. You both look like shit.”

“You always know just what to say Varric,” Marian retorted as she sank down at the dwarf’s right. She reached out an arm and pulled her old friend into a warm hug, kissing the top of his head before releasing him.

“Hmm, I remember you two from the battle. You both fought like hell out there by the way,” Iron Bull noted as he beckoned for Dalish to pass the flask of spiced rum to their new companions.

”Thank you, you as well,” Garrett said as he took a long pull from the skein.

”My name is The Iron Bull and these are my men, The Chargers. We’re a mercenary company that travels all over the world. Currently we are at the disposal of the Inquisition…if the Inquisition really still exists at this point.”

“Why wouldn’t it,” Marian asked as she wiped the remnant liquid from her lips before handing the skein off to the man seated beside her. “Your leaders all still live.”

”Yes, but our _real_ leader, the leader and hope of the people…is dead.”

”That woman who cut the trebuchet loose,” Garrett said sounding distant to which Iron Bull nodded.

”Her name was Tara and she was the true face and voice of the Inquisition…without her I don’t know if this will last much longer...me and my boys are pretty impressed with how you two have been leading us thus far though, especially considering that no one knows who you are,” the Qunari added as he shot a pointed to towards the Dwarf across the fire.

”Perhaps I should introduce my friends,” Varric interjected smoothly. “This is Garrett,” he said motioning to the big mage at his left, “and his big sister, Marian. I met them both in Kirkwall.”

“Huh. Either of you the Champion then,” Bull asked pointedly. An uncomfortable silence hovered over the trio facing the Chargers for a minute and then Garrett cleared his throat.

“If you are asking if either my sister or I was the one who killed the Qunari Arishok stationed there, the answer is me. I did that and gained the unfortunate title of Champion from the act.”

”Why do you say unfortunate,” Bull asked his tone mild as ever betraying nothing to anyone regarding his true feelings towards the matter.

“Because I respected the Arishok, and were it not for the fact that my family and my friends were in danger in the midst of the Qunari uprising, I would not have been forced to face him at all.”

”I like you,” Bull said then a smile cracking his battle scared face.

It was then that the group fell into a shocked silence as the sound of Commander Cullen’s voice rang out in the immediate distance. “It’s her! It’s her!” Instantly they were all on their feet racing towards the sound along with the rest of the camp.

They found the Commander stumbling down the mountain side with a half-frozen and unconscious Tara Trevelyan cradled in his arms. The camp ignited into a bustling frenzy of hopeful whispers and tentative warnings against such a miracle. Cullen hastily swept the dead looking woman into a private tent and Garrett nodded to his sister before moving after him to offer his aide. With a frenzy about to brew Marian then climbed to the top of a nearby crate and loudly insisted that everyone return to their tents and wait until their leaders gave further information.

Beneath the warrior woman’s stern gaze everyone eventually turned to do as she had bid.

“Your friend is quite the commander,” Iron Bull said in a low voice to Varric as he and the rest of the Chargers returned to their own space.

“That’s Blue…er, that’s what I called her in Kirkwall. Marian is a bit intimidating but her heart has always been in the right place…she and her brother have had a hard life…I didn’t know how much either of them had changed over the past few years…”

”And have they?” It was a pointed question to which Varric had an immediate answer, but the dwarf chewed his words as he usually did before sharing anything.

”They both look a bit more…beaten down than I remember. Especially Marian, but out of the two of them she had the hardest time when things went to shit in Kirkwall.”

“She’s a bit slight for that sword she’s carrying but she knows how to use it. That I can respect,” Iron Bull mussed before falling silent as the auburn haired warrior made her way back over to Varric’s side. She settled in, wordlessly staring at the fire before her for a long while. Then she lifted her hard blue gaze to meet Iron Bull’s and bared her teeth in a grin.

”Introduce me to your men Iron Bull. You seem the kind of people I could stand to get used to.”


	2. One More Step

            _Templars were all around her. Staring at her with demon red eyes as Corypheus reached towards her. Pain exploded in her left arm searing through her entire body as she clenched her teeth against a scream. He was going to take the anchor…she couldn’t allow it. She tried to struggle but she found she was unable to move._

_Fear clutched at Tara’s heart._

_She was going to die. Her friends would be subjected to a world ruled by this raving ancient evil, and Cullen…_

_Cullen._

_She could see his face, a careful steadfast mask as he was forced to kneel at an executioner’s block. The edge of an axe testing the back of his neck as some corrupted follower took aim. Behind him, shackled in a line; Dorian, Cassandra…everyone…_

_The axe fell…_

 

With a loud gasp Tara awoke and bolted upright, the image of a beheaded Cullen lingering beyond her nightmare. “Easy,” Mother Giselle chided softly from the young woman’s bedside. The sound of her familiar voice helped to ground Tara as she slowly shook her head to rid the remnants of the nightmare from her mind. A set of troubled mossy green eyes met the Chantry Mother’s own level gaze briefly before moving out beyond where she lay.

Instantly she found Cullen’s form and for a moment Tara smiled. Then he, Cassandra, Leliana and Josephine all began arguing louder and louder until they were practically shouting in one another’s faces.

”Maker…” the petite brunette sighed, “How long have they been at it?”

”Hours, a luxury they have thanks to you,” Mother Giselle said patting the now frowning woman’s hand. “Do not judge them too harshly. We have all been through much. At Haven we saw our leader face our greatest enemy alone, and fall. Now you have returned.”

“I did not die and then come back,” Tara said shaking her head, “I fell into an underground tunnel and then walked until I collapsed and was apparently found. That isn’t a miracle, that’s dumb luck.” Angrily the young Ostwick noblewoman tossed aside her blanket and stood up from her sickbed intent on breaking up her arguing friends.

She reached the outer edge of the tent then came to a stop as the giant stranger she had seen during the battle at Haven stepped up to the group. His voice was low and calm as he spoke, laying a hand on Cullen’s shoulder as he stepped into the midst of them. “You four are drawing the gazes of everyone in this camp. They need to see you unified, regardless of what is actually going on. So, why don’t you all go to your corners and cool off.”

Begrudgingly the foursome did as the strange man had ordered. Cullen paced away, his hands wearing over the hilt of his blade and pulling at his hair. Cassandra was bent unsmiling over a map, though her eyes seemed focused somewhere far away. Together Leliana and Josephine sat by a fire, unspeaking. For his part, the hulking man moved to stand by Cullen his hand again coming to rest on the commander’s shoulder, wordlessly offering support.

They would not survive like this.

Suddenly Mother Giselle’s voice rose over the tense silence.

”Shadows fall, and hope has fled. Steel your heart. The dawn will come…” Tara watched the Chantry Mother as she swayed out beyond the confines of the tent. The words of the song continuing from her lips, then the rogue started as Leliana’s voice abruptly sang out to intertwine with the Mother’s. Then the voices of those encamped nearest to them swelled pick up the tune. Cullen’s surprisingly rich baritone lofted its power to the song next. More people rose to their feet, their voices adding to the meat of the melody until the sound carried into the night, powerful and full of promise.

The petite rogue watched enrapt. Her skin prickling with energy as the words washed over the snow covered wasteland around them.

Once the echo faded Tara was surprised to find herself faced by Solas. The elven apostate asked her to follow him as he wished to speak with her in private. Tara accepted his request with a wordless nod and the two moved off into the night.

From her renewed place beside Varric, Marian watched the slight woman move away with the odd elf. From the looks of things this Tara held no fear of the man, but the warrior felt her skin crawl whenever she looked at him.

 

“Who are you glaring at now,” Varric asked nudging his friend.

“That elf,” Marian said sounding a bit more vehement than she’d really meant to.

“Oi, what’s your problem with elves?” The member of the Chargers aptly called Dalish was the one who had asked the question and Marian shot the other woman an exasperated look.

”I don’t have a problem with elves Dalish. I do however get a very odd _vibe_ about _him_.”

”Oh yeah ‘im? He gives everyone the shivers.”

“Everyone but Tara that is,” Iron Bull chimed in as he pulled out his infamous skein and began passing it around. ‘To keep out the cold,’ he always insisted.

”Your friend needs to learn to be more careful. Sometimes it’s those closest to you who can deal the deepest blows,” the warrior commented as she cracked her long neck.

“Spoken like a true pessimist,” Varric grumbled with a grin as he took a long drink.

”It’s been a few years since I had you around to constantly cheer me up Varric,” Marian then teased, a small smile spreading her lips. “I’ve become old _and_ bitter.”

“I was wondering how to bring up all those new lines on your face. If I’d known it would be this easy I would have said something earlier.”

“You arse,” the warrior woman laughed as she took a long pull from the skein. She then turned to pass the container to the man seated beside her. The quiet brunette accepted the drink with a muttered thank you his eyes never meeting hers. She found it odd but said nothing. She knew that his name was Krem from hearing other members of the Chargers speaking to him, and that he was Bull’s Lieutenant but not much else. He was a sturdy looking man and whenever she had spotted him during the trek up the mountains he was always assisting another. At times he had even carried some of the weakest refugees. It made Marian’s heart twitch in a strange way.

When her own family had been struggling just to make it out of Lothering Marian would have given anything to have such a person there. That thought brought a well of sudden tears to her eyes and abruptly the warrior got to her feet and stomped away from the fire.

”What’s wrong with her,” Stiches asked Varric in a low voice as his eyes followed Marian’s retreat.

“She’s…the Hawkes are _complicated_ people.”

”How so,” Dalish asked then and silently Varric berated himself for offering up any information about his friends. Thankfully Dorian appeared then distracting everyone as he moved to settle in beside Iron Bull.

”Tis a miserable wasteland out here,” the Tevinter native grumbled as he sat with a flourish of his cloak before holding a hand out for the skein. “Nice singing though and it’s good to have Tara back.” A series of agreeable nods met the mage’s words. “From what I managed to eavesdrop we are going to be moving out in the morning. There is an abandoned fortress a few mountains ahead. That is our destination. Hopefully it will be more defensible than Haven was.” Again a chorus of muttered agreements and nods greeted Dorian who shivered and pulled his thin cloak tighter around his shoulders. “And if luck is indeed with us, warm as well.”

“Here,” a deep voice said. A startled Dorian suddenly found a heavy cloak placed around him as Varric’s friend stepped past to sit next to the dwarf across the fire. Even with one arm almost entirely bare the big man didn’t so much as flinch in the icy wind.

“Thank you,” Dorian said his own body drinking up the warmth still left in the fur of the other man’s cloak.

”You’re going to catch your death running around like that Hawke,” Varric said as Krem handed the skein back over to the big mage. Garrett took a long drink, though in truth his palate was more suited to wine, then thanked the Charger’s lieutenant before handing the skein off again.

”I’ll be fine. My armor keeps me plenty warm. Besides, I always have fire with me you know,” the second eldest Hawke sibling said with a handsome grin as a small flame burst to life between the fingers of his right hand.  “Not to mention I did grow up in Ferelden. We’re famous for being a cold wet place.”

”And for being big,” the words were out of his mouth before Dorian could stop himself. Judging by the startled look on the other man’s face, not to mention the collective speculative gazes of the others seated around the fire that had not been what anyone expected him to say. It took all of the mage’s willpower to suppress the semi-embarrassed flush currently attempting to creep up his cheeks.

Then Garrett let out a hearty laugh the sound warming the frigid air a minute degree. “Well thank you for noticing! Being big is one of my finer attributes after all,” he added with a wide smile. “I make a _fantastic_ shield in a pinch!” The rest of the group roared with laughter then and Dorian was all too grateful for the other man’s gracious attitude in the wake of his verbal blunder. His eyes met his fellow mage’s across the fire and if he had blinked he would have missed the subtle wink sent his way.

As the rest of the group fell into a low chatter Dorian silently surveyed Varric’s friend, finally able to appreciate him without crisis raining down on their heads. He was indeed a giant and a ruggedly handsome one at that. Even with the thick growth of hair on his face the Tevinter mage could tell that his jaw was as square as his shoulders. His eyes sat deep within his face, giving him a thoughtful almost scholarly look that Dorian found utterly intriguing. When time allowed it he would have to talk with this Hawke, perhaps then he could show his true aptitude for flirting.

 

After returning from her talk with Solas, Tara made a pit stop to inform Cassandra of their newly appointed destination, winking subtly at an eavesdropping Dorian before moving off through the camp to talk to the people. She was met with many smiles and people kneeling at her feet, all of whom she quickly insisted not bow to her. She was after all merely a woman, and a half breed at that. Granted, one who could seal rifts, but even with that she was still just the same as them. Tired, cold, afraid of Corypheus and what he would do if he and his army caught up to them now. After making her rounds Tara felt both morally renewed and physically exhausted so she then made her way back to the tent she had first awoken in.

She was nearly there when she spotted Cullen walking towards her. His face was scruffier than she had ever seen it before and his eyes held dark circles beneath them. When he reached her she asked, “Are you alright,” just as he asked the same. They both let out small laughs, Cullen reaching a hand behind his head to mess his already strewn hair as he stared down at Tara with a lopsided grin.

”It is good to see you alive and well,” she said quietly as a blush warmed her cheeks, creeping up to the hidden peaked tips of her ears.

“Me? You were the one out there, alone, facing down Corypheus and his dragon or arch-demon, whatever that thing was! I…Dorian had said that you fell…I thought that you had…” The commander’s voice hitched and he fell silent then, turning his face away from her.

”Cullen,” Tara said gently as she reached up to cup one side of his face with her unmarked hand. “I’m here, I’m alright and I am very happy to see you are the same.” His gloved hand reached up to hold hers, it was then that he noticed her lack of cloak and quickly shrugged off his own, wrapping it around her tightly.

”You need rest and a hot meal.”

“The same could be said for many here. I will be alright, truly, you do not need to fuss over me. Just please make sure that you too get some rest okay? You’re no good to me half-awake and…I need my Commander.”

“I will always be ready to tend to your needs…” At that the pair blushed, Cullen more so than her as he realized how his words had sounded. “I mean…what I meant was…”

”Hush,” Tara said smiling brightly through her own intensified blush. “I do know what you meant. We march to Skyhold tomorrow,” she added sounding more authoritative. “Goodnight Cullen. I will seek you out with the sunrise.”

”Goodnight, Tara.”

The Commander made sure that Tara was safely inside of her tent before turning to make his way back into the camp. On his way to his own tent he caught sight of Marian Hawke standing alone out away from any semblance of warmth. No cloak shrouded the proud warrior’s shoulders but the tall woman stood still despite the brutal wind that cut down the mountainside. Cullen’s stomach twisted as he remembered the last time he had seen either of the Hawkes at the Gallows of Kirkwall.

Maker, Cullen thought as he realized that he had marched over several mountains at her side in the last few days and spoken barely a word with her or her brother. Cullen looked around himself and spotted a stack of blankets and moved to pluck one from the pile before striding out into the snow towards where Marian stood. The warrior heard someone approaching and shifted her gaze over her left shoulder. For a brief moment her glare caused the Commander to pause. He cast a hesitant grin, “You’ll catch cold like that,” he chided as he lifted the blanket in his hands.

Marian’s gaze melted a little as she turned to accept the blanket with a quiet thank you. She pulled the fabric around her shoulders then cocked an eyebrow at the blonde. “Says the man running about without a cloak…it’s been a long time Commander, you look different than I remember.”

”That bad,” he asked at which she chuckled.

“Not in a bad way…much better than you did in Kirkwall.”

He wished he could say the same. Cullen’s eyes noted the small changes, the lengthened chord of braided hair swaying against her gleaming plate armor, the new sword at her back. He also noticed how Marian seemed more gaunt than he had ever seen her, along with the haunted sink to her once blazing eyes. “You have changed as well...”

She cut him off with a raised hand. “Do not feel the need to be polite and return the compliment. I am aware that I am not as you last saw me.” He nodded curtly before the two lapsed into a mutual silence. “Where are we to go now,” Marian asked after a few minutes had passed.

“An abandoned fortress known as Skyhold, if we continue our pace we should make it in just a few days. I would appreciate your continued presence amongst the soldiers by the way. Your skills are without dispute and would be a great asset to our cause…if you and your brother intend on staying that is?”

Marian let out a small snort, “You say that like any of us has a choice?”


	3. Summons and Spankings

Skyhold was a marvelous place. A bit dirty and rundown upon the Inquisition’s initial arrival but a few weeks of hard work soon saw it returned to most of its former glory. Shortly after things had settled Tara was named as the official leader of the Inquisition. The people reacted just as expected. They were thrilled to have her as their savior once more. She on the other hand at times found herself longing for the quiet aloneness that came with being inconsequential. Still, she would never betray the trust that had been placed in her.

For now it seemed that things were at a standstill as far as Coreypheus was concerned, so most of Tara’s days had been spent running across the countryside attempting to close any remaining rifts that could be found in Ferelden. When at Skyhold she could usually be found in the war room with her advisors, their discussions as of late centering on Orlais and what would have to be done about the brewing possibility of civil war.

It all gave her quite the headache and sometimes late at night she could be found pacing the ramparts muttering to herself over the whole thing.

Aside from a brief incident involving Cassandra attempting to strangle Varric over the appearance of the Champion and his sister, her friends all appeared to be settling in as well. As for the Hawke siblings, they had proven to be invaluable assets at every turn. Marian had taken to helping Cullen personally train new recruits while Garrett was able to mend almost any injury. Having the formidable Champion of Kirkwall in their midst was also a huge boost to the morale of the newly allied mages.

Though at times Tara did worry about Garrett’s sister as whispers regarding the warrior woman’s former lover reverberated through the hold. Not that anyone would dare speak of such things openly less they draw the ire of either the warrior or her massive brother.

It was but one of the many joys of The Game.

 

On this day Tara had elected to remain in Skyhold to see how all of her companions were doing and take some time to speak with each of her advisors on a more personal level before heading out on another rift hunt. It was easy for many people to forget that they were in fact human as well and Tara wanted to be there to let them know that she at least had not let such knowledge slip her mind.

She made her way across the courtyard and into the tavern located across from the Keep, where Bull and his Chargers had made their home. As she reached the door a tall shadow appeared behind her. “Looking for The Iron Bull,” a rich female voice asked. Tara turned, and after moving her gaze upwards, found herself for the first time face to face with Marian Hawke. The warrior smiled down at her though it did not quite reach her eyes.

”Yes,” Tara breathed as an answering grin split her lips, “have you seen him? I know he can usually be found here…though I did not check the training grounds before I came over.”

“I believe that he and his lieutenant are working on something in the yard today. Come, I shall accompany you to them.” With that said Marian turned on her heel and strode off forcing the shorter woman to sprint a few steps in order to catch up.

“Maker your legs are long,” Tara said, her smile widening when her words were met with a short laugh.

”You are just very petite Lady Inquisitor.”

”Ugh,” the shorter woman made the sound with a decidedly practiced eye-roll. “ _Please_ do not call me that. My name is Tara Trevelyan and though we’ve never officially met I would prefer that we be friends and you call me just Tara…unless you would rather I refer to you as Serah Hawke as well?” At that the severe looking warrior made a comically disgusted face.

”Let us be informal with one another then, Tara.” At that the Inquisitor let out a giggle.

“Very good…so I must thank you Marian.”

“For what,” the eldest Hawke said sounding confused and halting her pace as abruptly as she had begun.

“For helping the people here. And for saving my life back in Haven. When that thing…when what was once Knight Captain Deman had me down I thought for sure she would have ample opportunity to finish me off. Your interference saved my life as surely as that underground tunnel did.”

“I am a frontline fighter Tara, you’ll never have to question where I am at in the heat of battle. That creature was threatening Varric’s life and at the risk of sounding cold I did not do what I did to save _you_. I did it because my friend was in danger.”

“You avoid my sincere thanks regardless of your own motives,” the slight rogue shot back with a wink before briskly resuming her own walk. Marian had already liked the Inquisitor for what she had appeared to be but now she found herself growing to like the other woman because of who she was. “Tis fine,” Tara shot back over one narrow shoulder. “I shall not bludgeon you with my gratitude.”

Marian chuckled before regaining her stride, easily catching up with the shorter woman.

They reached the training grounds and found The Iron Bull sparing with his lieutenant while the rest of his men worked either with dummies or in their own respective pairs. “Bull,” Marian called out loudly causing the massive Qunari to halt the training. “The Inquisitor would like a word.”

“My name is Tara,” the shorter woman whispered, “and it _can_ wait if you are busy,” the rogue added more loudly, only barely resisting the urge to elbow the woman at her side.

“Nah Boss I got some time, just keeping Krem here polished up on proper fighting technique when facing a two-handed warrior like myself. Perhaps Marian would be up to taking my place while we have our chat?”

”Sure,” the warrior woman said with a shrug. She set aside her blade before vaulting the fence surrounding the sparing ring and moving towards where the practice weapons were kept. After hefting a wooden broadsword into her hands she turned to face where Krem stood. He watched her for a moment then his eyes fell away as they usually did when she was near. The gesture was harmless but it pricked at Marian’s constantly volatile temper. She pulled bent low as she tightened her hold on the practice blade and merely shouted, “Hey,” before charging the lieutenant.

Bull watched it happen, placing a gentle hand over Tara’s mouth when he saw that she was about to call out a warning. “No, no, Krem needs this,” the Qunari chided before removing his hand. To his credit Krem did manage to notice the warrior rushing him just in time to block a hefty blow, though the sudden contact clearly had him off balance. The two exchanged a few more blows before Marian’s blade thudded soundly against Krem’s own as they intermittently locked together.

The auburn haired woman’s gaze bore into his as she grunted in exertion. “Finally,” she exclaimed, “I was beginning to wonder if you would ever look at me.” The two broke apart and began circling one another. Krem’s face twisted in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh please. Ever since I got here, even when you’re sitting right beside me, you never look at me or speak to me. What’s your problem huh?” Before the mercenary could reply the auburn haired woman charged again letting loose a flurry of strikes. “You’re good,” she added as they broke apart once more.

“I don’t know if I should say thank you or not,” Krem chuckled as he rotated his shield arm. “You aren’t so bad yourself. Where’d you learn how to wield a sword like that?”

“I mostly taught myself,” Marian answered before shrugging her shoulders loose, “and you’re avoiding my initial question.”

            ‘ _Of course I am’_ , Krem thought.

He didn’t know how this woman had come to the conclusion that he never looked at her. In his mind he tried to conjure a moment when he had _not_ been looking at Marian Hawke since she had first appeared at the Charger’s fireside. He had not wanted to seem overly attentive, taking care to look away if she looked at him so as not to be caught in his admiration. Apparently he had avoided her notice a little _too_ well if she thought him to be standoffish.

“I don’t have any problem with you and the last time I checked it wasn’t polite to _stare_ , especially at a lady.” Marian rushed him again but this time Krem was ready. The agile warrior sidestepped her charge and as he turned away gave her a light tap on the backside with his shield causing her to stumble a few steps. The lanky warrior skidded to a stop then turned to stare at him wide eyed, her mouth hanging slightly agape.

“Did you just…spank me,” she demanded as the ghost of a blush crept to the top of her cheeks. Krem’s smile stretched from ear to ear, he could not help it. The usually serious woman looked so comically disdainful in that moment.

“You just got done yelling at me about not giving you any attention, so I thought I would rectify the situation immediately,” the lieutenant said slyly. Marian’s eyes held a degree of disbelief as she straightened, cocking her head to one side as an uncontrollable smile tilted one corner of her lips and lit her eyes.

“You Ser, are shockingly cheeky for one so quiet.”

‘ _And your smile could turn a man’s knees to jelly,’_ Krem thought as he attempted to shrug nonchalantly.

 

As the two continued to spar Bull and Tara watched while they spoke. The Inquisitor smiled her approval over how Krem handled himself against the warrior woman. “You’ve got quite the Lieutenant Bull, his skill is undeniable but…why did you let Marian almost take his head off?” Iron Bull let out a rude noise as he raised an eyebrow at Tara’s words.

”First off I don’t believe Marian would actually harm an ally. Secondly, Krem needs to learn that just because he doesn’t want a woman catching him drooling over her that doesn’t mean he can just stare at the dirt whenever they’re nearby.” Tara’s eyebrows both shot towards her hairline.

“Krem…has a thing, for Marian?”

”Really Boss,” Bull said chuckling, “you’d make a horrible spy. Krem wants her so badly it’s hard to watch when she’s anywhere near him. He gets all quiet as if he’s forgotten how to talk at all. Honestly, it’s _almost_ as painful as watching Cullen when you walk by.”

“W-what!? What do you mean,” Tara asked blushing. She and her affections towards the Inquisition Commander were no secret by any means, and certainly Cullen had his boyishly unconfident moments, but she’d never thought it was _that_ bad.

”Boss I saw him run into a tree back in Haven. You were walking up some stairs to talk with Dorian. He took one look at your swaying hips and bam! The Inquisition’s greatest military mind, face, first, _in to a tree_.” Tara let out an inelegant snort of laughter that erupted into a full blown fit as she envisioned the incident.

”That does sort of sound like something he would do,” she admitted once she had caught her breath. “I enjoy that about him though. He doesn’t know how to be coy. It’s always what you see is what you get with him.”

“Hmm. Interesting, I always pegged you as having more of an eye for men who could sweep you off your feet. You know, really turn on the romance and take charge especially in the sack.” That comment made the small rogue turn bright red.

“Iron Bull!”

“What?”

”That is…how…I don’t even know how you came to that conclusion, and now that I mention it I don’t think I really _want_ to, but…still…how would you know what Cullen is like in bed?”

“Am I wrong,” the Qunari asked looking comically outraged that he could be incorrect.

“I _don’t know_ ,” Tara cried desperately. Then lowered her voice, “He and I have never…we are not like that. We are not even _we_! He is my Commander!”

“Hmm. Yeah I bet he likes hearing you say _that_ ,” Bull teased eyeing the incredibly red-faced woman beside him, “Very interesting stuff Boss!”

”It’s really not! Oh, stop it,” Tara whispered firmly as she slapped the back of her hand against the Qunari’s stomach. “You cannot tease me like that!”

“I can and I will. You’re too serious sometimes Boss, it’s important to remember that there’s more to life out there than all this shit. And just because you’re in charge of it doesn’t mean that it has to delegate _every_ aspect of your life…I guess what I’m saying is you _really_ need to get laid.”

”Okay that’s it! Conversation over!”

“By Cullen…”

“Over,” Tara insisted, her voice climbing once more to a near shout.

“As a professional I recommend at least twice a day when you can manage it,” Iron Bull pressed his smile growing wider by the second.

”Over!”

“And if he needs any tips you can always send him to me. I give _great_ advice.”

”Blighted tits this conversation is OVER! Marian!”

Oblivious to the other woman’s apparent distress the warrior held up a hand, her gaze never leaving Krem’s and curtly called out, “Busy,” before resuming her hold on her weapon.

 

 

High above the courtyard, Dorian Pavus stood at a window watching as Garrett Hawke’s sister sparred against The Iron Bull’s lieutenant. It had been comical when he had learned that the auburn haired warrior was actually the hulking mage’s older sibling. No one would have ever known it by looking at the two. Then again the Hawkes were not people you could gauge just by _looking_ at them. If that were the case he would have known everything about Garrett by now.

When he was not assisting in training the mages that had begun arriving at Skyhold in droves or healing the sick and wounded the big mage often made his way to the library. He would sneak in with a bottle of wine and tuck himself away in a secluded corner to read for many hours unless his sister or Varric appeared to fetch him. It just so happened that his hideaway was located directly across from the alcove that Dorian had taken up a semi-permanent residence. This gave the mustached mage a mostly uninhibited line of sight when the plush leather chair across the way was filled with a certain handsome Ferelden.

Whether it was over the edge of his current book, in the reflection of the window’s glass, or at times just blatantly, he gawked at the Champion. There were days when he actually meant to engage the other man in conversation but something always seemed to happen to prevent that. Usually it was business, but at times it was Dorian’s own newfound uncertainty.

It wasn’t that Dorian doubted that the other man would be receptive to his flirting; he had already proven that this was not the case. And it certainly wasn’t that Dorian hadn’t given _how_ he would actually go about introducing himself any thought. This fantasy was usually the last thing the mage envisioned before bed each night. It always came down to the same thing, there was just something very different about Hawke.

“She hasn’t injured anyone yet has she?” The unmistakable rumble of Garrett’s voice shivered up Dorian’s spine and the Tevinter mage whirled to find the colossus standing just behind him. Instantly the Kirkwall Champion took a step back, giving the other man some room as he mumbled, “Sorry…I didn’t mean to startle you.”

”It’s quite alright,” Dorian said cheerfully as his pulse quickened beneath his skin at their proximity. “And no, your sister has thus far evaded loping anyone’s limbs off.”

“That is good news indeed,” Garrett said with a breathless chuckle, one of his big hands moving up to rub at the back of his head. The motion gave the other mage a grand view of the healer’s thickly muscled arm. Meanwhile Hawke was silently kicking himself in his own head.

Why had he approached this mage? He had never spoken with Dorian before, other than their brief exchange in the mountains, and only knew his name from asking Varric. He had noticed the other man watching him as he read a few times and his curiosity had been peaked. Aside from that Garrett really had no business speaking to him.

The big mage cleared his throat and took another small step away, “Yes…well then, sorry to bother you.”

”You are not bothering me,” Dorian said in a rush, making the other man halt his departure. “In fact would you perhaps like to…”

”Master Pavus I have a, oh!” The page who came careening around the corner of the alcove nearly lost his footing in his attempt to not slam directly into Garrett’s back. “Champion,” the youth breathed reverently as his wide eyes took in Hawke’s form. “Um, I …I’m sorry to interrupt. I have a summons from the Inquisitor…actually,” the young man added hastily as he rummaged through the satchel at his hip. “I have one for you as well!”

Dorian noted the slight clench in Garrett’s jaw beneath his beard at the use of his title. Unaware the boy eagerly shoved the two missives at the mages before him before bobbing a bow and jogging back down the nearby staircase. Once he was gone Dorian moved his gaze to meet with the hulking Ferelden’s. “A note for us each! I wonder why her ladyship could possibly need the assistance of the Inquisition’s finest mages?”

With the flick of one manicured nail Dorian sliced open the seal of his own missive and flicked it open. “Ah, Tara,” he said in a warm voice as he scanned the page. “Rift duty in the Hinterlands for me…again,” he added as he folded the note and incinerated it in a flash of fire. “We tried closing this one before what happened at Haven but were turned back. I do not relish another attempt, however it is blocking a key path and cannot be left to grow any stronger.”  

Garrett stuffed his own summons into the back pocket of his pants before casting the other mage a devastatingly handsome grin. “Well, it looks like we shall be traveling together.”


	4. Big and Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rift hunting in the Hinterlands gives Dorian another chance to get up close and personal with a certain Ferelden mage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five stars for terrible Sera banter.

Garrett could not recall the last time he had been on a horse.

The big mage exhaled and forced himself to relax his grip on the reins for what seemed like the hundredth time since their journey had begun. Subtly he glanced around at his traveling companions and frowned. Each of them looked as though they had been born in the saddle, especially Tevinter mage. Dorian’s hips were fluid and his gait steady no matter what terrain they traversed. Maker but it was happy distraction compared to noticing his own awkwardness Hawke thought as he allowed his gaze to linger on the man riding ahead.

“You alright Big Bird?”

The distinct chime of Sera’s voice carved through Garrett’s thought process like a serrated knife through butter and the big mage flinched involuntarily. He swung his gaze over to the elven rogue riding at his left and cocked an eyebrow. She was literally lying back against her mount, casual as one could possibly be as she gnawed a long stem of reed between her teeth.

“I am fine,” he said with a shrug. “Just been a while…a _long_ while since I have been mounted.” As soon at the word ‘mounted’ had left his lips Garrett internally cringed. He had been warned against using any such phrase around either Sera, or the Iron Bull for that matter...the fact that he was riding sandwiched between the two was a mere bonus.

“Oh yeah,” the elven woman said sitting up a bit and sliding an all too wide smile across her face. “I bet I could help you with that. Put in a good word with some pretties back at Skyhold? Maybe two! Or…or a tongue!”

At that Garrett rolled his eyes and chuckled softly. “Sera I fear that your _pretties_ and my tastes would not match up as well as you might wish no matter how many words and tongues you insert on my behalf.”

“Hmm,” Sera hummed as she swiveled her gaze around to crash against Dorian’s back. “I might still be able to put in a word with _one_ pretty…might not be a good one though,” she mumbled as an afterthought. Garrett instantly hoped that his horse would suddenly spook and throw him off of the nearest cliff as he saw Dorian glance casually back over his shoulder. His gaze was distinctly unimpressed with the course of the conversation happening behind him and the big mage could not blame him.

“You just need to let some tension out of those hips of yours,” Iron Bull chimed in from Hawke’s right. “Riding is all about letting your instinct take over, allowing yourself to just rock in and out of the rhythm.”

“Maker take me…” Garrett groaned shaking his head. “I fully understand the mechanics of _riding a horse_ ,” the big mage said firmly. “It has simply been more than a decade since I have had the pleasure of doing so. You can walk anywhere you need to go in Kirkwall.”  

“Cullen mentioned that,” Tara piped up as she motioned for Garrett to move up alongside her. “Not that he speaks of his time there much,” she added as the big mage’s mount came to walk between her and Dorian. “What was it like there?”      

“Were you wanting to know about the city and its people or Cullen,” Garrett asked pointedly. At that the Inquisitor blushed moving her eyes to the road ahead before responding.

“Both I suppose. It would help to understand how this all began.”

The big mage nodded, “I can imagine. You first need to accept that Kirkwall and…and everything that happened there was just the culmination of things that have been going on for ages before. You cannot place people in cages, command them by fear and then expect nothing to happen in retaliation. I am not saying that magic is not dangerous. There are plenty of corpses I have personally created that are a testament to the contrary, but I am far more dangerous when forced to live in constant fear.”

“So you believe in principle behind the Circles,” Bull asked, his voice now somber.

“I do. Receiving proper training can make all of the difference for a mage, something I’m sure you have noticed when facing down Venatori?”

“It’s true, I have seen many Templars draw short the first time they encounter them,” the Inquisitor grumbled. “What Templars we have Cullen is attempting to prepare for what we will face…but him trying to convey his own experiences versus actually doing so…I fear we shall loose more men in the days to come.” Abruptly Tara turned once more to pin both Garrett and Dorian with her gaze. “What would you two think about conducting training sessions with more of the Templars? Vivienne might be game for it as well?”        

“Good idea Boss. Training like that could go both ways you know? Our mages would get to watch how to handle going up against Templars as well. They’re going to need that edge if you don’t want a bunch of our own giving over to demons.”

“You’re absolutely right Bull,” Tara said nodding firmly. “So what say you? Are you feeling up to it?” Dorian shrugged as Garrett looked over at him, one furry brow cocked towards his shaggy hairline.

“As long as someone else does the ‘shouting orders’ part I am game.”

“Oh I can manage that,” the hulking Ferelden said as his eyes locked with the other man’s. The low rumble of his voice shivered into places Dorian had not been ready for.  “Though from what I’ve heard of the woman, Vivienne might be better at it.”

“Yeah, she is,” Bull moaned as a love struck gaze glossed over his face. The group all got a good laugh at the Qunari’s expense and then they topped the ridge.

Instantly Tara halted her horse the others following suite. “There,” she said pointing down into the gorge. Garrett’s eyes moved down over the rocky walls of the narrow pass, flitting over the river that carved through its center and finally came to rest upon the rift. The pulsating swarm of green crystals and ichor was almost pretty. That is, until one noticed the cluster of demons milling about beneath its glow.

“I count five wisps, one despair demon and one terror demon,” The Iron Bull noted as his eye scanned the scene. “Could’ve sworn there was at least one more terror…”

“Probably underground all creepy like last time,” Sera shivered. “Watch your feet or they’ll come up right under yer bits,” she advised Garrett.

“She’s not joking,” the Qunari muttered shaking his horned head. “How do you want to do it this time Boss?”

“We’ll surround them,” Tara said as she dismounted and stretched her legs. “I want you and Dorian to take the shallow pass across the river and drop down from the other side. I will drop down from that outcrop by the mouth of the falls closer to the rift. Sera, you and Hawke will stay on this side. I’m not sure what your style typically is Garrett, but I want you to maintain distance unless things get really hairy. You’re our healer and I need to keep you on your feet.”

Dorian had also climbed down from his mount and was currently watching as the big Ferelden man nodded woodenly at Tara. “It will be hard to stay out of the melee,” he informed her with a grimace.

The Tevinter’s mind instantly reclaimed the memory of the battle at Heaven, Garrett charging across the field, lightning flaring around him as he took on Templar after Templar in daring hand to hand exchange.

“I know,” Tara said her tone leaving little room for debate, “but please trust my judgement on this. I am not saying that I want you sitting pretty on the sidelines fanning yourself and calling out encouragement. You’ll get your piece. I just want to make sure you are in a position to pull any of the rest of us out should the need arise. Things turned south fast the last time we were here.”

“Understood Inquisitor.” Tara and Sera moved off to exchange specialty arrows and work out a tactic of fire between them allowing Dorian to step up to Garrett’s side.

“We nearly lost Blackwall at this one,” he said quietly. “I think we shall fare better with a more substantial ranged team this time.”

“I shall watch your backs do not fear,” the big man said as he stared out at where the demons lazily mingled. “I can do a good amount of damage even without being up close. Do you have enough mana potions?” The question caught Dorian off guard and he silently blinked at his fellow mage for a moment. Not that his response seemed to be necessary to Hawke who simply reached out and hooked a finger beneath the potions belt looped around Dorian’s waist. He had three, substantial enough for most of their skirmishes. Hawke removed two from his own arrangement and deftly clasped them into place. “A battlemage like you is going to be taking a lot of the brunt from those things…I don’t want you to find yourself out there depleted.”

The tanned mage chuckled, “Oh? And I was so looking forward to being rescued again!” Dorian shot the big mage a saucy smile and was pleased when Garrett’s cheekbones turn a light shade of pink. The healer opened his mouth to retort but then Tara’s called, “Move out.” Instead he nodded briskly at the Tevinter mage and murmured, “Fight well,” before following after Sera to get into position.

“Come on Vint,” Bull said giving Dorian a light smack on his rear as he walked past. “Let’s send these demons back where they belong.”

The duo cut across the river and made their way up onto the narrow shelf of rock along the far canyon wall. They had to move slowly and Dorian’s back had begun to burn from staying low by the time they reached the end of the path. There they crouched down to await Tara’s signal. The Iron Bull apparently thought that it was a prime time to lean in and whisper against Dorian’s neck, “You’ve got a _thing_ for Big Hawke.”

The Tevinter Altus sighed and batted a hand behind himself as if he were shooing away a fly. “Must you really make such offhanded accusations moments before a fight?”

“Or, maybe you just like _big_ in general? Like me, I’m _big_.”

“A big _pain_ certainly,” Dorian quipped as his eyes searched the mouth of the falls overhead. Mercifully before the mercenary leader could pop off another comment about being a pain in some lewdly specific way Tara dropped down onto the rocky sill near the rift. She took a deep breath and then lifted her hand in signal to them.

The tanned mage gripped his staff tightly. “I’ll focus my attention on the despair demon,” he said in a low voice as he gathered his energy around himself.

In an explosive display of power Dorian fade stepped out to the edge of the riverbank and sent a large ball of flame careening at the despair demon. The thing shrieked as it leapt into the air its tattered robes smoking from where the fire had grazed them. Instantly the demon unleashed a beam of ice that swung wildly about the battle ground. Dorian sent up a wall of fire between the area where Iron Bull currently engaged the terror and the despair demon's attacks to keep the warrior from being frozen from behind. Dorian then cast a barrier around himself as he unleashed a volley of fireballs at the demon currently zipping around him.

He let out a low curse as he felt the impact of the nearby wisps’ attacks shuddering against the barrier at his back. Then he tasted the familiar tang of electricity in the air and heard, rather than saw, Garrett’s chain lightning course through the enemies behind him. Sera’s arrows sail overhead as she alternated firing at the two larger demons. From her place high above them Tara kept using her mark to attempt to seal the tear itself however there was a problem. The rift was spewing out a massive amount of crystals that would jut up from the earth without warning.

Dorian whirled as the despair demon landed on the rocks not too far from where Garrett stood his ground. The demon let out another wail before spewing a fresh ice beam at the healer. The big mage dove behind the only rock large enough to provide any cover, but now he was pinned. The grey eyed Tevinter felt a rush of adrenaline flood his veins. He planted his feet and cast a tight barrage of fireballs each one slamming into the unfocused demon and battering it to ash against the canyon wall. Dorian grinned as the healer’s head cautiously poked up from behind the small boulder. Garrett caught his eye and smiled back as he lifted an arm in thanks.

“Vint!” Iron Bull’s shout of warning came an instant too late. The second terror demon made itself known by erupting through the ground beneath Dorian’s feet and hurling him into the river.

He landed soundly on his back sputtering as air whooshed from his lungs and water filled his nose. He sat up wildly looking for his staff. Then the demon was on top of him lashing out with its spiny limbs and crushing him beneath the river’s surface with its weight. One barbed talon connected soundly with his side and he gasped in pain, choking as water flowed into his mouth. Panic clutched an icy fist in his heart. He was going to drown…

Abruptly the weight bearing down upon him lifted. Blindly Dorian flailed onto his stomach and began dragging himself away from the beast. He coughed and hissed in a breath as the pain of river rock and silt being ground into his wound burned through him. He heard the demon shriek and jerked back around to face it, but instead found himself looking at Hawke’s broad back.

The Terror bent low and charged the big mage. Garrett never flinched. Dorian felt the backlash of power as the other man unleashed a mind blast spell that forced the demon back a few steps and left the creature stunned momentarily. Then big mage rushed forward striking out with the bladed end of his staff and carving a deep wound into the beast’s chest. The pain brought the demon from its stupor and it flailed its many limbs at the mage.

Where Dorian would have cast a shield around himself, Hawke dodged the attacks without magical aide. The demon lunged down at him and the big man vaulted onto the creature’s back. Grey eyes widened as they watched the Ferelden mage hook his staff beneath the demon’s horns and wrenched his muscled arms hard to the left. The beast’s neck snapped with a resounding crack. Garrett slid his staff free and nimbly leapt down as the demon’s corpse crumpled to the earth.

In a few long strides the big mage was by Dorian, healing magic pouring from his hands as he pressed one calloused palm to the wound at his side. “I am sorry,” he rasped his brows drawn tight and the Tevinter man’s heart gave an odd lurch at the look that those dark eyes cast at him. “If I had just…”

“Hawke!” The ground just behind the big mage heaved a split second after Sera had shouted her warning. The other terror demon had made it past Dorian’s wall of fire and decided to give chase to an easier meal than the Qunari was proving to be. It exploded up from the earth just behind Garrett, leaping high into the air and aiming its many talons down at the two off guard mages.

Dorian’s hand was immediately up casting a barrier even as Hawke’s body crashed down on top of him. The Tevinter mage let out a small grunt as he blinked up at the portion of the demon’s claw that stuck through his shield and grazed the large Ferelden’s back. The grey eyed man knew that he should really have been more concerned with the demon wailing above him and flailing its limbs against his barrier, but Garrett just smelled so intoxicatingly good.

The big man’s full weight was pressed against him; one thick arm wrapped tightly around his torso, his right hand cradling Dorian’s head so that it did not scrape against the rocks. The scruff of Garrett’s beard tickled against the tanned man’s face in a pleasant way that made the Tevinter want to turn his head bury his face further into the crook of the other man's neck.

“Incoming,” Sera called as she loosed a volley of arrows. The barbed shafts impaled the demon a few exploding in a hot toxic haze. Dorian tightened his focus on his barrier then preventing the demon from moving away as Bull charged across the river. With only a few hacks from the Qunari’s giant axe the demon gave one last shriek before it died, its carcass leaving a bloody smear as it slid down the mage’s shield.

As he let his barrier fade Dorian heard Tara close the rift with a triumphant shout. Garrett slowly got up, picking the Tevinter mage up easily and setting him on his feet as well. “Is everyone alright?”

“I’ve got a few deep ones,” Bull said wincing as he let his axe rest against a rock. “Unless you’re busy,” the Qunari added with a grin. Garrett realized that he had yet to remove his arm from its place around Dorian’s waist and was currently holding the shorter man captive against his thigh.

“Sorry,” he said as he let go and stepped over to where The Iron Bull stood. As the big mage began healing the mercenary leader the Tevinter mage shot the Qunari a pointed glare. By the time Garrett had finished piecing Bull back together the two rogues had made their way down to join the group. Tara was absolutely beaming as she bounced up to stand beside Dorian. She looped an arm around the mage hugging him tightly as she exclaimed, “That was a spectacular fight! And Hawke, I have never seen…the way you broke that demon’s neck it was so surreal!”

“And here I thought that you only had eyes for a certain cloak wearing Commander,” Dorian teased. Tara flushed casting her own gaze up to glare at her friend.

“Yeah yeah,” Sera snorted as she surveyed a minor tear in her armor, “Big Bird is big mountainy meat cookie, let’s get the horses and make camp I’m starving!”


	5. Water Works

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This posting prompted by Hobbit69 who is a terrible influence and wonderful friend.

Dorian did not care for camping. It consisted far too much of bugs sharing his bed, rocks digging into his back and dirt settling into places which dirt most certainly did not belong. However upon occasion while being dragged across the Ferelden countryside, they would happen to set up camp near one of the many hot springs littering the foothills, and the tanned mage would treat himself to a starlit bath.

It was instances like this that had made the mage fall in love with the stark wilderness of the South. The air that tasted like damp sage, far more cleansing than the spiced muggy air of his homeland, which soothed something within him he could not describe. The constellations were harder to see in Tevinter as well but here, without the lights of a city to mar their brilliance, the stars glimmered far overhead without restraint. 

Currently his head lulled back against the large sandstone rocks at his back as he stared up into the blinking darkness simply enjoying the peacefulness that surrounded him.

The sound of heavy footfalls made Dorian close his eyes with a huff.

Iron Bull often joined him during his soaks. On the odd night the two would sit in silence, perhaps only a passing touch or phrase being exchanged at all. Most of the time however the mercenary enjoyed baiting him with all manner of dialogue and attempting to grope him when he tried to leave and Dorian was in no mood for such an exchange this evening.

He heard the warrior break through the line of brush and pause. Dorian let out a loud haughty sigh, “I shall thank you kindly for refraining from destroying the mood with your ceaseless yapping. Yes I am naked, yes I look delicious as we both well know and yes Big Hawke, as you call him, is still a fabulous distraction on this little venture of Tara’s. There you see, all done!” Dorian decided to make it an internal challenge to continue to ignore the Qunari no matter what the lummox did to gain his attention this night and therefore kept his eyes shut. He could never really get around smiles, the Tevinter mage thought with a frown, dreadful coincidence considering some of his companions. And after his little tirade Bull was definitely smiling, the mage could feel it.

 The sound of rustling fabric and pieces of armor dropping to the ground alerted the mage that Iron Bull was about to join him. He instantly set about causing the water to burble up to help mask his nudity, not that he really minded being ogled or ogling for that matter. It was more that the big mercenary always seemed more relaxed when the water began to massage his battle scared body.

Next Dorian heard the muted thoomp of each burly leg entering the water followed by a hiss as Bull sank down to settle against a rock across the pool. A few contented sighs later the Tevinter mage was itching. The Iron Bull was not one to generally listen to anyone or anything unless it suited him, least of all a huffy Dorian, so why hadn’t he blurted something out yet? Or perhaps that was his game, to force the tanned man to open his eyes or make conversation? Blast it all, Dorian thought as he ripped open his eyes while keeping them fully trained on the heavens above him.

“By the Black Divine say whatever it is you are patiently waiting to spring upon me! The sooner you get it out the sooner I can go back to relaxing!” As he practically shouted the last bit of his tirade the necromancer whipped his gaze down to collide with the laughing eyes of Garrett Hawke.

”But you said not to ruin the mood?”

Dorian thought he might faint then and there. He also knew that he was gaping like a fish and blushing like some scandalized Chantry sister, his rapier wit having currently abandoned him. To buy a second of time the mage cleared his throat and nodded firmly. “I uh thought you were The Iron Bull,” was the first coherent sentence that mustered its way out of his mouth.

The big mage threw his head back and laughed until his shoulders shook from it. “Sorry to disappoint you but no, it is only little old distracting me.”

“Kaffas…Hawke please, allow me to apologize for that comment.”

”Oh,” Garrett said cocking one thick brow, “so you do not find me to be a _fabulous_ distraction after all?”

Dorian fought against the fresh heat making its way across his face before casting the other man a warry smile, “Now I did not say _that_. You were simply never supposed to know of my appreciation. After all I have a reputation to uphold you know? Sexiest mage in the Inquisition is not a status I intend to relinquish without some sort of fight. Letting you know that I find you handsome does not quite line up with my plans to cling to the title you see?”

”You intended to simply salivate from a distance then?”

”Minus the occasional bodily rescue of course when I can manage it,” Dorian parried with a wink. Tension bled from his body as the Tevinter realized that there would not be any repercussions for his careless words.

He settled back against his own rock and allowed his eyes to roam over Garrett at leisure. The man was nothing but thick muscle and sinew. His skin tawny in hue, darker in the places where his armor did not cover and a softer shade where it lay hidden from the sun, minus an odd mass of scar tissue bunched down the center of the healer’s stomach. Dorian shook his head so as not to be caught staring at the scar and instead focused on the rest of the other man’s skin. It looked like the type of flesh that would feel weathered beneath his teeth, a kind of armor in and of itself. Perfect to grab and kneed in his hands as he haplessly clawed at the other man’s back. Dark swaths of hair covered the big mage’s chest and arms which bulged with natural muscle impressive for any human. To think, mere hours ago that same body had been pressing against his, so earnestly shielding him from harm…

Dorian casually averted his gaze as he realized he was beginning to become perhaps a little _too_ invested in his appreciation of the other man. “Thank you for saving me by the way,” the Tevinter said off handedly. “I’m beginning to owe you my life a few times over.”

“I told you I make a good shield,” the big mage cheerfully exclaimed.

Dorian let out a laugh at that and nodded.

“That you do. Though I admit I am rather glad that I was able to cast a barrier rather than allow you to be impaled upon me.” ‘ _In that context anyway_ ’, the Altus added to himself as he watched a mild dusting of pink flood the high edge of Garett’s cheekbones. Briefly Dorian entertained the idea of the other man being pinned beneath him, his face flushed and pupils blown wide with arousal.

Garrett _knew_ the kind of look the Tevinter mage was giving him and he had to admit it was odd to feel so breathless. It had been a long time since anyone had graced him with an appreciative glance, especially one so brazen. Those grey eyes roaming his partially concealed body stirred something within the healer that he had for so long assumed was simply gone. He smiled allowing the balloon of excitement to swell as he held Dorian’s gaze briefly.

The Altus felt his stomach do a flip as he stared into the other mage’s dark blue eyes and found a spark of answering attraction. Before his own thoughts could invade the moment with a whisper of caution Dorian leaned forward and asked, “Would you…like to get a drink some time?”

Garrett blinked back for a moment, and then a positively boyish smile split his face. “I’d love to!”

 

 

 

Krem huffed as he threw down his training sword and moved to the barrel of water at the edge of the training ring. His left hand still stung from when he had pinched it a few days ago and it was making his grip on his shield awkward. He sloppily picked up the ladle hanging from the hook on the post beside the barrel, filled it with the clear liquid and drank greedily as his adrenaline still surged through his body.

An airy laugh made the Tevinter man pause and lift his eyes up over the edge of the fence. A couple of girls from the Herald’s rest stood leaning against the side of the building watching him with a matching set of smiles spreading their stained lips. The blonde one waved and Krem suddenly realized he was standing bent panting over the barrel with water dripping from his mouth like some beast.

“That’s a good look for you lieutenant.”

The sound of Iron Bull’s voice had Krem laughing in a second. The brunette brushed his sweat dampened hair back out of his face as he turned to face the Qunari. “Welcome back Chief,” he said with a smile as he moved to clasp Bull’s hand in his own. “Take it the rift hunt went well then?”

”It’s done. That’s the best outcome we could have hoped for. How have things been here?”

”Good. Mostly been helping to train some of the green troops, haven’t had any jobs come down the line while you were out.”

”You been watching after Marian like Varric asked you to?” At that Krem flushed.

The night before the Inquisitor’s party had left the dwarf had approached him with a nominal sack of gold and requested that he watch over the eldest Hawke while they were away. He had politely refused the money but also assured the storyteller that he would in fact keep an eye on the other warrior. Krem nodded and cleared his throat his eyes roaming the courtyard until they settled on the warrior in question’s form.

She was near the gates hugging her brother, a smile brightening her eyes.

The sight made the lieutenant’s heart ache.

”She’s been hanging out with me and the boys most nights. Get a few drinks in her and she almost doesn’t frown sometimes.”

”Is that so,” the Qunari chuckled as he followed Krem’s gaze. The warrior was speaking excitedly to her brother, her hands patting at the mage’s arms while he laughed and shook his head. Dorian, Bull noted, was also watching the exchange from his place at Tara’s side as the Inquisitor handed off her reports. He caught the Qunari looking at him and excused himself a moment later to begin trekking towards where the two warriors stood.

“What are they serving for supper in there,” Bull then asked inclining his horns towards the Herald’s Rest.

”Some kind of chicken dish,” Krem said with a shrug. “Fresh supplies just arrived yesterday so I think the kitchen gals are trying out some new dishes.”

”You make any requests? Some spicy ‘Vint dishes they need to be experimenting with?”

“Don’t know any to suggest,” the brunette said with a wink. “I wasn’t from the fancy side of Tevinter like Dorian.”

”Just make something up and speak as though you’ve got something lodged in the back of your throat while saying it. Anyone here would believe you,” the mage said as he came to a pause at Iron Bull’s side. “And speaking of food are you about to eat? I myself am famished!”

“Yeah we are. Come on, Krem can fill us in on what’s been happening while we were gone.”

The trio made their way into the tavern and were instantly greeted by a raucous series of shouts and whistles from the rest of the already seated Chargers. Bull took his usual seat at the head of the table while Krem settled in at his right; Dorian moved to an empty seat a bit further down and took note of the empty seat at the Qunari’s left.

 “Expecting someone else,” the Altus asked motioning to the chair as a full pint of ale was placed before him. Dalish instantly perked up and looked around the tavern before moving to pin Krem and Bull with her narrowed gaze.

“Where’s Blue?”

Cremisius’ cheekbones instantly became pink as he found himself under the laughing stare of The Bull.

”She’s been sitting with you all for more than just drinks eh?” Krem cleared his throat and nodded.

”The boys have bonded with her and…well…yeah she’s been having her meals with us as well.”

“I’d like to continue to, if that’s still okay?” The sound of Marian’s voice made the lieutenant rise to his feet faster than Iron Bull could blink. The rest of the Chargers smiled amongst each other, before they all turned knowing gazes towards their leader.

”Of course you can,” Krem answered before the Qunari could even open his mouth.

”Room for one more perhaps,” Garrett asked as he came to stand behind his sister. In his hands he carried fresh pitchers and two empty tankards. He smiled down the table and winked boldly at Dorian. Skinner caught the exchange and wordlessly moved down a seat and patted her vacated chair. The siblings moved to take their places and Dorian was thrilled to see the big mage come to settle in across the table from where he sat sandwiched between Dalish and Stiches.

”Always have room for a Hawke,” Bull said as he moved to fill Marian’s cup for her. The warrior raised her tankard at the mercenary leader with a respectful nod before throwing back half of its contents in one gulp.

‘ _Lady can handle her alcohol’,_ The Iron Bull noted silently. His eye wandered down the table to Garrett watching him just as closely as the mage filled his own cup. _‘Liquid not to the brim…polite sip to hide a smile, didn’t work, still smiling at Dorian.’_

The blonde Bull has seen fawning over Krem sashayed her way to the table, pausing just to the brunette’s left with two large serving trays balanced on one arm. “Hungry,” she asked, her voice purposefully breathless.

”Yes ma’am,” the Tevinter warrior said as he began to pass dishes down the line. The blonde continued to shift her hips closer and closer until she was practically straddling Krem’s shoulder, not that the warrior noticed, but Bull did. He also observed the way the kitchen girl kept trying to ‘subtly’ flash her cleavage in his lieutenant’s face as he helped unload her trays. The mercenary leader also noticed that Marian had also taken note of the waitress’ flirtatious actions and was currently fixing the other woman with a hard stare.

Oh, this was going to be good.


	6. How to Parry and Flirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After gentle prompting from my goddess muse and best beta, Hobbit69, here is the next chapter!

“You are sure that this is a good idea?”

  
Dorian grinned as he watched Cullen pacing the length of his office. Tara’s eyes followed him like a cat from her perch upon the edge of his desk and nodded insistently. “Of course I am. Our allies come from all walks of life, most of whom have never seen the kind of magic and terrors we will be going up against. I think having a taste of it before getting into an actual combat situation could be very beneficial!” The blonde wordlessly continued pacing prompting the Inquisitor to add, “…You feel differently I take it?”

“People aren’t perfect Inquisitor and if I may be frank I am more worried about Dorian. What Templars we do have are paranoid as it is. Setting an accomplished Tevinter Altus loose in their midst could invite trouble.”

“Your concern for my wellbeing is endearing Commander but I would say that what Templars you have need to get over it,” the necromancer said lightly. “They are going to be surrounded by mage allies as long as this conflict drags on and at some point they will need to get used to it. Like desensitizing a horse.”

A knock on the Commander’s office door caused them all to fall silent for a moment. Then Garrett Hawke’s voice sounded from the other side. “I know you’re talking shit in there Cullen, everyone else has already gathered in the courtyard by the way!” The armor clad warrior strode to the door, opened it and was instantly greeted by the big mage’s smiling scruffy face. “I wondered why my esteemed partner hadn’t joined me for our demonstration yet. Don’t tell me you’re letting them bully you into having cold feet,” the big mage teased as he grinned over at Dorian.

The Altus huffed, though the corners of his lips tugged up all the same. “The Commander believes that perhaps our demonstration should take place without me. The big bad Tevinter mage is just too much for our feeble Templars apparently.”

“That’s a pretty big message you’d be sending to the bulk of your forces,” Garrett said suddenly somber.

“We have you,” Cullen stated emphatically as he gestured at the hulking mage. “You are the Champion of Kirkwall. People know who you are and respect your title.”

“My primary school of magic is healing if you’ll remember?”

“You aren’t seriously going to try and pull that stunt again,” the blonde asked in an exasperated tone.

“Enough,” Tara cut in. The petite rogue hopped down from the edge of Cullen’s desk and moved to lay a calming hand on her general’s forearm. “Dorian will assist Garrett during the demonstration. He won’t antagonize the Templars nor will he use his necromancy, does that suit you both?”

“Am I allowed to at least sass the unruly masses,” the Tevinter mage asked as he winked at his friend. The Inquisitor laughed as she moved to the door.

“Only in self-defense dear, I know how you get!”

With that out of the way the group exited the Commander’s office and descended to the open court yard below. As they made their way down the stone stairway Dorian’s eyes moved out over the collected throng of mages, soldiers and Templars. Everyone looked tense beyond reason in his opinion and a cool sliver of doubt crept into the pit of his stomach.

A hand at the small of his back made the Tevinter noble swivel his gaze back around only to find the Champion leaning towards him. “I am glad that you will be with me. The mages here need to see someone like you. Someone who grew up without having fear of their own powers drilled into their head.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Dorian whispered back with a small smile. “However the Commander is also right…my involvement could invite trouble. I am not so naïve that I haven’t noticed the scowls cast my way already.”

Garrett said nothing though the phrase, ‘I will protect you,’ nearly escaped his mouth without warning. He swallowed hard against the well of defensive anger that had bloomed within him at Dorian’s words.

Then they were at ground level and moving to stand just behind the Inquisitor and Cullen as the two addressed the crowd. The big mage felt his sister’s presence as she moved to stand at his side, and noted the way Dorian’s eyes briefly widened as he turned to look at the warrior woman. Garrett gave his big sister a casual glance and saw that she was dressed in full Templar armor.

“Thought it might be a good move for them to see themselves reflected in us and actually working together,” Marian breathed as Cullen laid out the ground rules for the event. “I should have talked to you about it first, I’m sorry.”

“Doesn’t faze me sister, I know you won’t smite me. Good thinking by the way, I’m sure that the Commander will appreciate the move.” Marian harrumphed in response as Cullen then turned to raise a hand towards them.

“We are facing down a creature that claims to be a god and who has allied himself with demons, mages and Templars alike. The dangers we will face are diverse so today it will be demonstrated for you what we will all be up against, and how to handle yourselves. I leave it to you Champion.”

Garrett cleared his throat as he took a step forward. Talking had never really been his thing…not to a crowd any way. “Good morning, thank you all for coming…I er, I’m not very good at speeches so what say you all we just cut right to it yes? The bulk of Corypheus’ horde is made up of demons this is true but those numbers are heavily bolstered by Red Templars. These Templars possess the same capabilities as ours do however they have traded their humanity for the power that ingesting red lyrium grants them. Their attacks will be relentless and are meant to sever the connection that mages have with the veil. It is important to remember that just because you are unable to cast does not mean that you are without the means to fight back. Sister?”

Marian moved forward and unsheathed her greatsword from its place at her back. The edge was freshly honed and glimmered in the sunlight as she rolled the pommel in her hands. Her brother nodded as he shifted his glaive down into his hands. “No magic,” he said firmly. The next moment Dorian flinched as the siblings raced headlong at one another and collided in a series of vicious blows. Garrett’s pole work was lighting quick parrying most of his sister’s strikes. Those he could not deflect he dodged. The crowd seemed to hold its breath at every swing.

“Good,” the big mage said as they stepped apart neither sibling even breaking a sweat. “The polearm is a very versatile weapon. It isn’t simply something to channel magic. If you are a mage you cannot rely on your powers as your sole line of protection or attack. The Venatori already know that and have been trained as battlemages and arcane warriors since birth. If you are a Templar and you smite one of them, they will continue their assault. And so must we. Dorian if you would please?”

Garrett held out a welcoming hand to the Altus who nodded and strode forward to stand in Marian’s vacated spot. “Do you have anything you would like to add?” The grey eyed mage nodded and turned to face the throng.

“Blood magic,” he said without hesitation and swore he could hear Cullen flinch. “You will face it, you will see it and you have to be ready to combat it. Abhorring something is not enough, though I share the same sentiment as what I gather many of you feel towards it. It is real and it is a tool that the Venatori will use against us. For them it is merely another branch in the schools of magic and will come to them as naturally as flames may come to you. If you are lucky you shall in fact have a Templar beside you who can negate or dispel their magic, if not it will be up to you to fight back with everything you have. Mage on mage combat can be particularly brutal as I am sure many of you already know, and as you are all about to see. Champion,” Dorian finished with a respectful bow towards the other mage. “Watch my face,” he then added in a teasing tone.

“Having a hard time doing anything else,” the bearded man whispered back an instant before he struck. Dorian’s shield wavered under the onslaught of Hawke’s force spell and he felt excitement spark in his very bones. It had been a long while since he had been able to spar with another accomplished mage. The Altus shoved back, dispersing his shield in a gust of flame that blew back the remnants of Garrett’s own spell. The two men lunged at each other trading a series of small spells as they focused on hand to hand combat.

The Ferelden healer was bigger, his blows ringing through Dorian’s arms as their staffs met again and again. It was exhilarating. The Altus was far more nimble however making Garrett chase him for every swing and then turning to attack at the other man’s open side. One of his blows made it under the healer’s guard and for a terrible instant Dorian watched as the bladed end of his weapon carved towards the Champion’s calf. The sound of metal meeting rock ground through his teeth as the massive mage’s body was abruptly covered in armor made of stone.

Garrett winked down at the battlemage before dropping the armor and turning to mind blast the other man back a few steps. The healer had the upper hand once more and it was all Dorian could do to keep ahead of the strikes as they came. Suddenly pride rallied through him, he needed to win this. He needed to prove that he was just as capable as Garrett, that he was equally strong. He wanted those who whispered at his back to see it.

The healer barreled at him and Dorian met the charge head on. Just as he and Hawke were about to collide he dropped down to his knees and skidded beneath the other mage’s blade coming to his feet at Garrett’s back. He hooked the blunted curve of his blade around the healer’s ankle and gave a small tug sending the giant careening into the earth.

As Garrett turned around he found the tip of Dorian’s polearm at his throat.

“Yield,” the Altus said stoically then a smile brought up the corners of his lips and was answered by the big mage’s laugh as he held up his hands.

“I am clearly bested, I yield.” Dorian’s staff was instantly strapped back into place as he bent to assist the other mage onto his feet. Behind them Cullen took charge once more assigning the crowd to partner off for hand to hand training. “You were fantastic,” Garrett said softly as he gave Dorian’s helping hand a warm squeeze before letting go. “We should spar more often!”

“I’d be happy too…next time I shall remember to make a bet with you.”

“Oh? And just what shall we wager? You’re already getting a drink out of me.”

“Actually I believe it as I who asked you on our little…outing, so it shall be I who will be procuring the beverages.”

“And just when did you want to go on this outing,” Garrett asked his smile briefly faltering as he took note of Dorian’s intentional triteness. “I mean…you know we do not have to if you do not…”

A firm set of ringed fingers squeezed over the big mage’s hand, silencing him in an instant. The tanned man leaned in his grey eyes fixated on the healer’s blue gaze. “Where I come from most people do not wish to be so forward about their…telling you I would like to take you on a date is not something I would be able to say in public back home. It was an old habit nothing more. I would enjoy the opportunity to have a drink with you. Maybe later tonight even, if you are free?”

Garrett’s eyes sparked as he answered Dorian’s squeeze by lightly lacing his own fingers between the other man’s. “Yes please. I will see you at the Herald’s Rest then?”

Dorian’s smile was radiant as he nodded up at the healer, “Tonight.”

 

“You have a what?!”

Garrett let out his breath in a long low sigh before speaking. “I said I have a date. Tonight actually…which is why I wanted to come here alone,” he added with a pointed look at the pair seated across from him.

Marian and Varric exchanged inquisitive looks that slowly bled into a set of fox grins. “Wait…,” the warrior then said her eyes narrowing as she picked over her brother. “It isn’t that glitzy mage…the one Varric calls Sparkler?”

“His real name is Dorian, and yes he is the man from our little exercise earlier.” At that the eldest Hawke’s smile vanished and she sent her brother a disapproving look.

“Little brother…”

“You know you never did call me that much after I outgrew you until Fenris left me,” Garrett grumbled, bristling. “I don’t appreciate it Mar.”

“I’m looking out for you; Maker take it! You need someone around guarding your heart!” Varric didn’t like where this conversation was leading. Both siblings had been pulling long hours over the last few days and tired Hawke’s were always pricklier than rested ones. The dwarf could read Garrett’s response plainly in his angry muted gaze.

‘You’re one to talk Sis.’

Past his sister’s shoulder the hulking Ferelden suddenly caught sight of the mage in question as he entered the tavern. Dorian’s stormy gaze wandered the room briefly before meeting the big man’s causing a smile to light his handsome face.

“This conversation is finished Mar,” Garrett said firmly as he rose from his chair and strode towards the other mage. Marian instantly whirled in her chair and once she spotted the dark haired man her brother was walking towards she glared with enough intensity to kill.

“Easy Blue,” Varric said settling a hand on his friend’s arm, patting more and more firmly until she finally turned back. “Your brother deserves a chance to find happiness on his own terms.”

‘Maker knows you both deserve it after what happened.’

“He is far too flippant with his heart,” the warrior snapped.

“Hey now, is that you speaking for him or for yourself? Sparkler might not even be after your brother’s heart!”

“For the love of the Maker’s tits, seriously Varric,” Marian said rolling her eyes as she shook her head grinning faintly. “I just want to protect him from a repeat performance.”

“I know, don’t you worry. We’ll keep an eye out for your brother but we don’t want to keep him from potentially finding someone new or just having fun right?”

“You are right Varric,” Marian sighed as she tossed her braid back over her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s show these sods how to get drunk!”

 

 

 

“Um I do believe your sister just tried to murder me.” So much for witty and tactfully delicious hellos, Dorian thought to himself as he took in the shocked look on Garret Hawke’s face. The big mage turned his head back over his shoulder but his sister’s gaze was already removed to the dwarf at her side. A pity, he’d been practicing his own I set you ablaze glare for weeks, yet it always seemed to land on his elder sibling’s back. Maddening.

“Don’t mind her, she’s just…”

“Protective?” The Tevinter native offered tentatively his own gaze holding a degree of wariness in the wake of the other man’s unspoken irritation.

“I was going to say being an overly aggressive bitch of a big sister, but your word sounds much nicer,” the big mage said with a tight smile.

“Should I…”

“Please, don’t even start in on how you play into my sister’s foul temper. After Kirkwall erupted into war she somehow managed to get her head stuck in her ass and it’s been like this ever since. It isn’t you specifically, please allow me to apologize and let us have a pleasant evening?”  
If he hadn’t been staring into Garrett’s eyes Dorian might have still excused himself but there was something so incredibly…hopeful in the big man’s gaze that he simply couldn’t leave.

“Alright, but if she attacks me I’m freezing her then making a hasty getaway to my homeland before anyone even thinks of thawing her out.” At that Garrett chuckled then motioned for Dorian to lead the way to their table.

The mage had taken the opportunity to use his connection to the Inquisitor to procure a more private table on the second level of tavern for this occasion. Considering the hostile nature of his date’s sibling who was also present, Dorian silently patted himself on the back at his preparedness. The two men settled in and a waiter appeared to take their orders.

“I’ll have wine, something sweet if you have it please,” Garrett said.

“I too shall have some wine, a cabernet if you please,” Dorian said handing the waitress her payment and tip upfront. The young elven woman bobbed and quickly retrieved their drinks then left the two men to their own devices. For a few minutes they simply watched one another, taking a sip here and there as each attempted to find some form of suitable conversation.

“So you would run to your homeland eh,” the Champion said awkwardly. “How did you end up here? Titch bit cold for your style up this way.”

‘Ah of course he would ask the unknowingly loaded question first’, Dorian thought as he took a bracingly larger gulp of his beverage. “I admittedly do not agree with much of what goes on in my homeland or amongst the majority of the other residents there. Hence why I am here, I am a proud pariah of the Empire. Disowned by my family over a number of differences and displaced by an unwillingness to simply bow to the current order there. So there’s that.”

Hawke blinked. “I can honestly say I’ve only ever met one other citizen from the Imperium,” he said slowly. “I should add that you do not remind me of them in the least.”

“I shall take that as a compliment…though…regarding blood magic…” The Tevinter man sniffed and swirled his wine as he fought the unbidden thrum of fear that trickled through him. “There are plenty of rumors about me, I would be shocked if you hadn’t heard and while I have never actually used blood magic…I do know a bit about the how of it all. I er, don’t know if that will be a problem for you…”

Dorian had no idea what had possessed him to be so blunt and forthcoming with the other mage, but there it was all on the table for judgement and not even one full glass of wine to soften the blow. ‘Well done Pavus’, he mentally berated himself, waiting for his pleasant time with the Champion to snap to a close.

Again the big man blinked in the wake of Dorian’s honesty.

“You remind me someone I once knew…my sister would not be as receptive to such knowledge but I have been studying the matter on my own time and really…it has some good points. Not to say I myself would ever invest my talents into such a practice but I can respect a man who owns his abilities.”

‘I think that I may be in love with how logical you are,’ Dorian thought silently as he took another drink. “You’re incredibly grounded in that opinion. Especially considering everything you went through in Kirkwall…uh, Varric might have mentioned a tale or two about you and your sister before you ever arrived.”

“Not to mention that those considered to have been part of the start of this whole mess is hardly a well-kept secret,” Garrett added with a laugh.

“I suppose you are right about that,” Dorian said as he chuckled. Then the two men lapsed back into another silence, each helplessly grinning at the other over their glasses as they tried to think of something else to say.

“So, should we just skip right to the glorious inevitable naked rendezvous,” the Tevinter mage abruptly asked sparking mischief in the healer’s eyes.

“By all means clear the table! I haven’t been touched in years,” Garrett said as he stood up and acted as though he were about to sweep the table’s contents to the floor. He waggled an eyebrow at the other mage causing him to laugh heartily and drawing a few curious gazes from other nearby patrons. “On second thought perhaps we should wait just a bit,” the big man then added with a wink, “I’m not too keen on my sister seeing my small bits.”

“Oh my dear, if the rest of you is any indication your bits are anything but small.” At that Garrett blushed and resumed his seat clearing his throat and looking away, though he could not quite hide his smile.

“Maybe if you play your cards right you’ll find out one day,” Garrett said attempting to sound coy.

Finally on the offensive side of the playful banter Dorian raised his hand and motioned to a nearby waitress. “Another round please dear! As fast as you can carry it and leave the bottles.”

 

 

She was drinking strong whiskey, she always did.

The red hued golden liquid passing between her ripe lips in waves, tongue sliding against the seam to catch every last drop, it was intoxicating just to watch. She still wore her armor and that was a shame. What did she look like beneath Krem wondered as he took a drink of his ale eyes still quietly fixated on Marian Hawke.  
Varric was with her, which was good. Even here in the Herald’s Rest a man could drink too much and press upon a woman…not that the fierce warrior wouldn’t have something to say or do about it. Sometimes he allowed himself to fantasize what he would do if someone were to try. He would never want her hurt or afraid of course but to be her hero…His fists laying waste to some drunken sod. Her eyes shining as her lips parted in a small awed gasp. Thank you, she would say her words causing those lips to mimic the shape of the kiss they would share later…

“Go ask her to sit with us.”

Iron Bull’s voice made Krem nearly leap out of his own skin, an action that caused the big Qunari to laugh loudly. “Krem de la Crème, you need to relax. She’s human, she bleeds. She’s no untouchable goddess. Andraste’s tits I saw you spank her while you two were sparring that one time and she didn’t slice you in half…that’s a good sign! It’s practically her version of tossing out the welcome mat!”

“Just because she didn’ finish me off then doesn’t mean she’s game for anythin’ Chief…,” Krem mumbled into his mostly empty mug.

“But it does mean she probably won’t say no if you invite her and Varric over to share some company while they drink.” He had a point, sod it, the Qunari always did. Krem settled into a silence as he weighed the dangers of inviting Marian Hawke to drink with him and the rest of the already toasty Chargers. He took too long and without warning Iron Bull shouted out, “Hey! Marian, Varric, come sit with me and my boys!”

Marian turned in her seat her eyes meeting Krem’s stare, which he quickly diverted to the bottom of his tankard.

“Why the hell should I drag my arse all the way across this bar just to sit with you louts,” the warrior challenged even as she and the dwarf moved from their seats.

“Because my Company possesses the only people in this tavern who can match you drink for drink. And we’re damned good at singing!” The auburn haired woman laughed at that her smile dazzling. Krem decided he needed a new drink and stood up intent on moving to the bar.

“Where do you think you’re going Cremisius,” a sultry voice asked as a hand came to fist itself in the side of his shirt halting his retreat.

“I’m out o’ ale,” he said lamely, his gaze briefly meeting Marian’s once more. She snorted at him and released her hold.

“A man who doesn’t drink whiskey, Bull what kind of operation are you running here?” That comment set Krem’s ears ablaze.

“I can hold my drink. I just don’ always like getting so drunk I can’t see straight, unlike some,” he added with a pointed look at his commander.

“Well my cup is also empty. Perhaps you would accompany me to the bar? You know, let me lean on you since I can’t see straight and all?” As Marian feigned a hefty staggering swoon into Krem’s side, he instantly rethought his stance on her armor. Just the smell of her brought his blood to boiling. He couldn’t have imagined staying upright had she pressed her unarmored curves against him.

Tentatively Krem circled an arm around Marian’s waist and used his shoulder to brace her back into a slumped but standing position. “If you’re really that bad you should take a seat and I’ll bring you a drink.”

“Oh, would you?” She asked it sarcastically but the way she bat her eyelashes at him made Krem’s heart pick up its speed. He immediately snatched her cup from her hand and strode away before she could even blink.

“Well,” Marian said with a wide grin, “now that’s what I call service.”

The tall warrior and her dwarven companion both settled into their new seats, nodding and laughing their greetings to the rest of Bull’s company. Listening as Varric launched into one of his famed stories Marian Hawke cast her gaze over her shoulder. It fell upon Krem’s back as he bent over the low counter across the room trying to get the bartender’s attention. He was not wearing his armor this night, which intrigued her. It wasn’t often that any of Bull’s Chargers could be found without either their armor or their weapons, and Marian found the lieutenant’s more casual side to be unexpectedly captivating.

“Are you ogling my man,” The Iron Bull teased as one of his massive shoulders bumped against Marian’s own squared one. She cast the Qunari a look and rolled her eyes. “I do not ogle anyone Bull. I have more important things on my mind than a good romp these days. Like a good fight or how sharp my blade with be after I put it to the stone come tomorrow.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Bull said with a shrug. “I think that you would find a warm body in your bed far better company than steel.”

“Aren’t you the one I heard explicitly professing the more pointed benefits of a blade possessing blood grooves to the Inquisitor the other day,” Marian shot back.

“That he did,” a feminine voice said drawing the group’s collective glances. Tara Trevelyan stood over the table, or would have from her place at the head, had she possessed any height. Even seated, Iron Bull towered over the Inquisition leader.

“Boss,” the Qunari rumbled pleasantly. “Come have a seat and a drink! Krem, bring another ale for the Inquisitor!”

“Actually I was just coming to tell…” Before Tara could truly object Marian herself grabbed ahold of the petite woman’s arm and all but threw her into the chair shoved forward by Rocky.

“Don’t you dare bring business here at this hour,” the warrior said in a tone that was somehow both threatening and joking. “I’m already dealing with my brother being elsewhere in this establishment on a date…a date Tara, the first honest interlude with another human being he has been a part of in years! Not even you shall distract me from this!”


	7. Hold Me Closer Giant Dancer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love, kisses and face grinding thanks to Hobbit69 for helping me fight my grammar demons.

Garrett did not know if it was the wine, the good conversation, or the devilishly delicious natural slant of Dorian’s lips but Maker did he want to kiss the other mage. The two had settled into discussing the differences in their native homelands for the past few hours, each quietly delighted to be in the company of another knowledgeable and non-judgmental soul. And somewhere between the mutually disliked topic of slavery and the more tentative one of blood magic, the second eldest Hawke had drifted from pointed dialogue to staring at the other man’s moustache shadowed mouth.

Back when he had met Fenris, Hawke had been charismatic but shy and inept when it came to matters of the heart and the body. His incompetence had not exactly been bolstered by his skittish lover either, but now, sitting in the Herald’s Rest with this practical stranger…Garrett wondered blearily in his head what would happen if he were bold?

Not his forte by any means, but he liked _this_. This feeling of belonging that he did not want to lose.

Maker take it; he was so tired of walking on eggshells and waiting in tense silence to be _allowed_ to feel or act upon his own feelings. He was a man who had defeated a Qunari Arishok in single combat, faced down demons the likes of which others could only dream…why was this such much more daunting?

“Garrett?”

“Hmm,” the big mage blinked and flushed slightly as he realized he had been lost in his thoughts and completely checked out from the actual conversation he had been having with the man across the table. Dorian smiled as he chuckled warmly.

“I just asked you what color your undergarments were,” the cheeky Tevinter said sarcastically with a wink.

“Oh! Well that’s an easy answer, I’m not wearing any,” the hulking mage threw back with a devastating grin of his own. The fruits of his labor were immediate in the answering blush that covered Dorian’s high cheekbones. “I rarely do,” Hawke added with a wink.

“Fasta vass,” the other man whispered as he ran a hand back through his hair. “I barely know you and here I am, tongue tied at the mere insinuation of you without an article of clothing…I am not usually so easily distracted I’ll have you know.”

“And I’ll have you know that I am not typically so readily flirtatious. Caution is more honest to my nature but you…” Garrett fell silent. How did one tell a relative stranger that they made them feel more comfortable in one conversation than a former lover had managed in over a decade of courtship?

“I hope that I do not sound too odd in saying this,” Dorian then stated quietly, his warm grey eyes fixated momentarily on the rim of his glass, “but I find you to be...fine company indeed.”

‘ _Understatement of the century,’_ the Tevinter silently added as his gaze rose to meet Garrett’s. There was something already between them that Dorian at least found he could neither deny nor put to words. It terrified him as much as it excited him.

“I also find you to be quite exquisite company,” Hawke said as his sent the other man a small smile in return. The Tevinter matched his smile, a laughing glint forming in his eyes.

“At least enough that you felt just fine staying here with me after the closing hour,” he said then with a wink. At that Garrett blinked and cast his own gaze out around the second floor of the tavern only to find it empty, and the moon hanging high in the sky beyond one of the nearby windows.

“Should we go,” the big man asked abruptly standing from his chair, feeling impolite towards the tavern’s employees and his date all in one moment.

“If you wish to,” Dorian said as he too slowly got to his feet, casting a glance to the floor below. “Though I doubt that anyone working here is going to mind our staying, the Inquisitor seems to also still be in the vicinity, along with your sister and the ever present Chargers.”

“Oh,” the big man said moving to stand a bit closer to the railing to peer down at the lower floor, consequently also drawing himself closer to the other mage. Their renewed proximity allowed Dorian to inhale the deep musky male scent that seemed to cling to the second eldest Hawke, it made him feel heady. There was something clear cut about the smell. Like the sheer rock of the side of a cliff face with just a hint of evergreen foliage clinging to its surface.

The Ferelden native turned to face Dorian and the small space between them sizzled with energy. Garrett licked his lips, “I do not wish to see our night end just yet,” he admitted softly.

“Nor do I,” the Tevinter native concurred. “We could always join the others downstairs for a bit? I am going to eventually run into your sister and have to introduce myself after all. I might as well do so readily. I’ll not allow her to think me a coward on top of my being _Tevinter_.”

“Alright,” Garrett said, hoping he sounded more excited about the ensuing meeting than he really felt.

 

 

The two men descended the stairs their respective wine bottles and glasses dangling carelessly from their hands as they approached the full table. Varric and Iron Bull saw them coming and waved in greeting. Marian on the other hand was too preoccupied arm wrestling Rocky to note her brother’s entrance. Dorian watched somewhat enthralled as the warrior woman let out a fearsome shout as she slammed the thick muscled dwarf’s hand back down onto the tabletop. Cheers sounded around the table as Marian stood cheering as she raised a fist in the air triumphantly.

 Skinner leapt up and tossed the contents of her mug over the celebrating warrior, who without missing a beat then ripped her now soaked chest plate free and pointed at the other woman. “You want ta’ go, Skinner? Let’s do it! Put up your coin boys, I could always use more in my purse!” Though she shouted loud enough to rattle the rafters Marian’s tone was light hearted and friendly. Further proof was provided when she slapped hands with the now laughing elven woman before reclaiming her seat.

“Maker, Marian,” the Inquisitor said with a flushed laugh, “you’ve got a sound arm that’s for sure! Perhaps I should replace Iron Bull with you when I go out on rift patrols?”

“Hey now, Boss, let’s not get carried away,” Bull said with a chuckle.

"My sister is strong, but she is still no Qunari, Inquisitor.” Tara turned in her chair and welcomed both mages with a wide warm smile.

“Garrett! Dorian,” she cried as she stood up and rushed to hug the Tevinter. “How was your date,” she asked without reserve.

“Oh yes,” Marian then added, all but throwing her own chair aside as she too turned to face the duo, “That.” The tall woman strode over to stand before Dorian. Her eyes were no longer laughing and her lips pressed into a firm line. Facing her was like facing a statue of some long-ago female general. Her eyes bore into his unamused and definitely unimpressed. She stuck out her hand towards him and dryly stated, “Marian Hawke, Garrett’s big sister, and the one you’ll find yourself answering to if you do _anything_ to…”

“Yes, yes, you’ll tear his man-bits off an’ all that, your love for your brother is certainly the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” Tara interjected as she rolled her eyes and struck a hand towards the now slightly amused Tevinter. “Marian this is _my_ _good friend,_ Dorian Pavus.”

Dorian did not know if he should kiss the Inquisitor and profess his gratitude, or use her as a human shield so he could leave before Garrett’s sister ripped him inside out.

“Hm,” the warrior huffed, “a friend of Tara’s? Alright then, it is…nice to meet you Pavus.”

“Please, my dear lady, if we are to become acquainted, call me Dorian?”

“Very well…you like wine, Dorian,” Marian then asked eyeing the bottle in his hand with a form of contempt that he could not comprehend. Before he could answer the warrior shot her brother a look then motioned for them all to rejoin the table.

Two more chairs were pulled up and soon everyone was back to chatting and clanking mugs over old stories.

At some point Dorian’s wine was replaced with a much stronger spiced whiskey, whether it had been the courtesy of Garrett’s sister or Iron Bull he could not say, but by the time the next hour rolled past the Tevinter was well and drunk. Seated at his right, Garrett Hawke had also run out of wine and turned to what smelled like sweet rum. The big man rumbled with shameless laughter the timbre of which shook the walls when it synchronized with Iron Bull’s, reverberating pleasantly in Dorian’s own chest.

During one of Iron Bull’s many tales of the evening, Dorian started as he felt a hand upon his thigh just above his knee. Large and warm the hand squeezed causing the Tevinter mage’s gaze to swivel up to collide with Garrett’s heavy lidded one. One corner of the healer’s mouth turned up and he winked before moving his own gaze back to Iron Bull as the mercenary moved into the climax of his tale.

The hand that remained on Dorian’s thigh held the necromancer’s attention as though he were chained to it. Questions rose up through the grey eyed man’s pleasant alcohol induced haze. Was this a signal from Hawke? In Tevinter it would have been, a clear message that they would be leaving soon to…was that what Garrett intended? They had not spoken about it, but when had he ever planned out an itinerary with a paramour?

Not that the idea of having sex with the Ferelden mage was unappealing.

He just did not want it to end.

The rich conversation, watching as Hawke threw his head back and laughed at one of his jokes, the familiarity. In Tevinter once the tryst had concluded those involved usually parted ways and never looked back. Was that what was about to happen between him and Hawke?

Dalish yawned loudly following the finale of Bull’s story and proclaimed that she was good and ripe for bed. The others at the table al nodded their agreement and began to say their farewells before shuffling off to their respective sleeping arrangements.

When Dorian stood to go, he found the world swaying beneath his feet. A strong arm wrapped around his waist to keep him upright and when he looked up he found Garrett smiling down at him.

“I can assist you to your rooms,” the big man slurred warmly.

“What about your sister,” the Tevinter asked, his eyes wandering over to where Marian stood reclaiming her armor.

“Varric, you’ll see to my sister,” Garrett then asked the dwarven man. Varric shrugged at his old friend with an apologetic look on his face as he assisted the half-awake Inquisitor to her feet.

“I’m sorry Hawke but someone needs to see to Tara and she came here alone.”

“I can walk her,” a familiar voice said softly. The big mage turned his gaze over to find Iron Bull’s Lieutenant behind him.

“I’d appreciate that Krem,” Garrett said with a thankful grin. With an answering nod Cremisius sidestepped the two mages and made his way over to Marian. The tall woman had just pulled her breastplate back into order when he appeared at her side.

“Cremisius,” Marian said, her voice a touch more airy than it normally was. She smiled at him. It was a real smile, one without any hint of the warrior’s usual vinegar in her gaze.

“I ca…I can walk you back to your room,” he told her, silently thanking the Maker that his face was already red from the alcohol he had consumed.

“That’s okay…you sleep here…I’d feel awful if you walked me to the Keep then had to turn around and come all the way back here…”

“Really,” Krem said stepping up to the tall woman’s side and placing a hand at her waist before he could stop himself, “it’s no trouble Marian.”

“I can jus’ walk back with my brother…oh…” The eldest Hawke sought out her brother and found his familiar form just as he passed through the door of the tavern with Dorian slumped against his side. Krem worried for a moment that the warrior woman was going to go after the two men, but something unexpectedly softened in her gaze and a tentative smile brought up one corner of her mouth as she breathed softly, “Oh. Maybe…maybe you could walk with me,” she said then surprising the Lieutenant. Cremisius reached out to place a steadying hand at the small of the warrior woman’s back and gently ushered her towards the door.

 

 

 

“Which room is yours?”

Dorian had to think quite a lot harder about Garrett’s question than he’d anticipated.

“It is located just off the library…but kaffas that is a lot of stairs to manage at the present.” At that the big mage chuckled.

“Then I suppose you’ll just have to sleep with me,” the Ferelden native rumbled as he steered his fellow mage towards another door. The Tevinter mage blushed as his uncertainty regarding the healer’s intentions from earlier resurfaced in his mind.

Shortly after he had made his suggestion of sleeping together, it struck Garret that the other mage might be thinking that he meant something more than what he had said. He knew that he needed to clarify his statement. By the time his alcohol muddled mind had formed this thought, the two had arrived outside his bedroom. There, Garrett paused and fumbled to turn the shorter man around so that he was looking Dorian in the eyes. The fact that he had also trapped the smaller mage between the hallway wall and his body did not occur to him.

“Dorian,” the healer said trying to focus.

“Yes, Garrett?”

The big mage had a whole speech prepared about how one-night-stands were not his thing. But somehow that was forgotten when he looked down into the other man’s eyes. The shocking thought that he could get lost in those smoky orbs for the rest of his life crowed out everything else. Words failed him so the big mage moved instead.

Large calloused hands settled on either side of Dorian’s face, holding him still as Garrett’s lips descended. The kiss was soft and only curiously plying. It was a drastic shift from the desperate heated sloppy affairs that the Tevinter was used to and he shuddered in reaction to it. In his drunken state Dorian was more inclined to call it tender in its execution. The kind of kiss one would imagine two long time lovers sharing at the end of the day. It stole his breath and left him feeling dizzy when the larger man pulled away.

“Come on.”

The big mage opened the door to his chambers and waved a hand out before him as he strode forward, causing the lamps in the room to flare to life along with the fireplace located along the far wall. Dorian glanced around the room his gaze coming to rest on the rather large bed seated beneath a set of high windows. Garrett had moved to stand at the foot of the huge piece of furniture and cast an inquisitive glance back over one thick shoulder.

The Altus knew what that meant.

Oh well. Might as well make it good, Dorian thought to himself as he slowly began undoing the clasps and laces of his shirt. In an instant the heavy lidded eyes of the healer widened slightly, his lips parting wordlessly as the battle mage hooked his fingers under the edge of his shirt then removed it in one smooth pull. He held Garrett’s gaze as he tossed aside the garment before moving his hands to the belt around his waist.

“Um…do you need anything to sleep in?”

Dorian froze.

Garrett sounded like he had just swallowed several lemons and a mouse and his face was bright red. The Tevinter man cocked his head to one side and cleared his throat.

"I usually sleep in the nude after…but I would gladly take a pair of fresh pants…though I’ll admit that I find myself in doubt that your clothing will fit me…I am sorry,” the grey eyed man said shaking his head, “I have never had this reaction to my undressing before.”

“I er…I just wasn’t expecting you to take off your clothes…I guess it just didn’t occur to me that you would want to sleep in the nude with me. Which isn’t a problem,” the healer said in a rush, “I just…you’re…I’m fucking this up aren’t I?”

Dorian stared at the big man blinking. “We…you intend for us to have sex right?”

“Sex,” the big man squeaked then abruptly realized that he never had given Dorian any indication that anything other than _that_ was going to transpire.

“It is the dead of night, I am already mostly naked, definitely drunk and in your personal chambers with you _alone_! What did _you_ think we were going to be doing?”

Garrett blinked before smiling sheepishly, “Cuddle?”

“You’re serious?”

The big mage nodded then cleared his throat. “So…sleeping pants?”

At that Dorian laughed shaking his head as the tension bled from his body.

“I too generally sleep in the nude,” Garrett quipped as he saw his companion relaxing back to how he had been earlier in the evening. “However, I imagine it would be a tad bit harder to keep my word about just sleeping, maybe cuddling, if we were to both wind up naked in my bed. If you’d be more comfortable without any clothes, feel free. I on the other hand am going to find a pair of loose pants.” With that the big man walked to the chest at the foot of his bed and began rummaging around leaving Dorian to shed the rest of his clothing in relative privacy.

“Close enough?” the big man asked with a raised eyebrow as he held up a pair of cotton drawers that were fairly snug on him.

“Might as well try them, I do not wish to tempt you too rigorously,” the Tevinter said with a wink as he stood shamelessly in his smallclothes before Garrett. The hulking mage tossed the set of pants to the other man, allowing his blue gaze to linger appreciatively on the necromancer’s mostly exposed body.

“Please, go easy on me Dorian,” Garrett said with as he turned back to fetch himself a set of pants. As the Tevinter mage pulled on the only slightly too large garment he suddenly noted that Garrett was stripping out of his own pants. Dorian could not help but stare, catching a brief glimpse of some very tempting flesh before the Ferelden pulled on his fresh set of drawers.

Then the Champion turned and motioned to the bed, “Shall we?” Both men moved to climb beneath the covers of the bed and shifted about until each had settled into the mass of pillows Garrett kept against his headboard. After a few minutes had passed in a somewhat awkward silence the big mage moved his hand and snuffed out all but the light of the merrily crackling fire. Dorian had no idea what to do then. He had never shared a bed with a man who had not first had him face down in the bedspread. The thought of Garrett’s earlier promise of snuggling wove its way through the Tevinter man’s still alcohol fuzzed mind and shyly Dorian turned his head to face the other man.

“I thought you said you intended to cuddle me,” he teased softly, only able to see half of the other mage’s face in the overhead beam of moonlight. A glint of a smile shot out from the shadow passing over Garrett’s face as the big man turned over onto his side. He looped an arm around Dorian’s waist and hauled the shorter mage up against his chest nuzzling his beard roughened face into the crook of the other mage’s neck.

“I didn’t want to force you…” the big man said softly against Dorian’s ear, and the shorter man shivered at his words. Garrett then placed a gentle kiss against the other man’s neck before whispering, “Good night, Dorian.”


	8. Don't Drink and Confide

Marian tried to walk, she truly did; one foot shifting into the vicinity of another step, then the next and the next. It did not help that alcohol sloshed back and forth through her brain with every motion. Maker’s breath, blinking was enough to cause the world to start spinning. She leaned heavily into Krem’s side, one fist clenched like a vice in the fabric of his shirt. Another step, this one taking her foot into an indentation that, while sober she might not have even noticed. Drunk Marian on the other hand felt as though she’d stepped off of the face of Thedas. 

She staggered and closed her eyes again the rush of sensations that roared through her head like the sea itself. An arm wrapped around her waist steadfast and strong as it braced her upright. Another step…the world lurched beneath her feet.

Blood loss, she thought blearily.

“I’ve got you,” Anders said as he hefted her weight upwards, swinging her around until she rested in the crooks of his arms. Strong for a mage, people were always saying that about him. Most mages were strong. They had no other choice but to be. “I’ve got you,” he breathed against her wild hair as he moved down another alleyway. He smelled like the boiled herbs of a health poultice, his sweat from fighting adding another layer of bitterness to the scent. Not that she minded, mostly because it was him, and she undoubtedly smelled much worse. 

“Anders…” she murmured as she turned her face into the fabric of his robe. Must have had to ditch his pauldron during the fight, she mentally noted. “Are you alright?” He hesitated and her temper pricked. He was always hiding his wounds. He was the healer… “Don’t lie,” she added as she attempted to tug at the front of his robes. Suddenly her head rolled and she felt as though she might throw up. “Poison,” she breathed as she nuzzled closer to her lover’s chest. 

Burning biting stinging poisons she could manage, vinegar in the wound nothing more but this, this was something else. 

“Yes,” Anders finally said over the sound of a door opening. “You most likely won’t feel very well, but you will not die, Marian I promise.”  
“You won’t let me…you’ll always protect me won’t you,” she sighed. She faded to the fringe of her consciousness for a minute. It was like being placed below water. She could hear Ander’s boots move across the floor, the small exhale of breath as he laid her down upon a bed…his or her own? It was hard to tell. Then the series of tugs and careful prodding that came as he divested her of her armor. It stuck to her in some places and she wrinkled her nose as she anticipated the pain of her undershirt moving away from her wounds with it, but the pain never came. Maker, Anders was a wonder with his healing. She should be snapping out of it any moment now, perhaps a bit weary, but a far cry from the useless pile of bones she was currently.  
She felt his weight leave the edge of the bed and listened as he moved out into the room.

“I love you,” Marian sighed as the footfalls grew louder once more. The mattress beneath her wheezed as Anders’ weight sank back down beside her side. 

“Here you need ta drink some water Marian.”

Ta? 

Even as a strong arm pushed beneath her back and propped her up and the rim of a glass pressed against her lower lip, Marian’s mind churned. Anders spoke very clearly. He was incredibly well written and his manner of writing dictated the way he articulated. On occasion he might interject some variance of Ferelden slang but not fully forming his words…was odd to her ear.

“Marian?”

The voice…the voice was wrong and Marian suddenly began to struggle against the cup at her mouth, the arm around her. “Anders,” she said weakly as she ripped her eyes open. 

Krem’s visage met her and suddenly the roaring in her head was overwhelming. Her stomach heaved and she crumpled forward as the imagined Kirkwall heat fled her, leaving her abruptly in the cold darkness Skyhold.

“Easy,” Krem said as his eyes frantically glanced around the room for a bucket, a basin, anything should the warrior need to relieve her stomach of its contents. He watched as Marian took a deep steadying breath and then he saw the first glimmer of tears flood her eyes.

The warrior’s face crumpled and she lurched away to hide her weakness. “I’m such a fucking fool…” she muttered as her square shoulders heaved in a jolting series of unheard sobs. “You should go. I don’t want you, or anyone to see me like this…Maker, why’d I have to…have to get so drunk!”

“See you like what,” Krem asked gently as he lifted a hand to force Marian to meet his gaze once more. He stared into her eyes for a long moment then shook his head, a sad smile of his own crossing his lips. “See you human? You’re allowed your heartache just like the rest of us Marian. I shall not judge you for it. You need not worry with me.”

Marian felt something within her break. 

All of the pain, the longing and hopeless silent screams she had been swallowing for the last few years welled up within her until she burst with the pain.

Shame…she was, ashamed.

Ashamed that she was drunk, ashamed that she was crying on a nearly complete stranger, ashamed that she still could not rend Anders from her thoughts and ashamed that she yearned to be comforted in her self-made misery. Marian sank her face forward to rest against Krem’s collarbone and sobbed.

“Have you ever wanted something…so badly, Krem…but not badly enough that you would change who you are,” the warrior whispered and then she was gone again, spiraling down into the utter oblivion that only drink had been able to provide her since her lover’s passing. 

‘Yes’ the Tevinter man thought as he moved so that he sat upright beside Marian in her bed. The warrior turned over to snuggle against him in her sleep and he let her stay there. 

It was a hard thing to face ones demons alone.

 

 

The sun rose warm and bright the next morning. 

Garrett awoke once to the sound of trumpets announcing the arrival of someone at the gates. Briefly he wondered who it could be, then the still sleeping man beside him let out a small sigh and the big man shrugged off the thought all together. 

This was not Kirkwall. He was not the one everyone came running to with their problems in Skyhold. For a little while at least, here, he was simply, Hawke. The big mage cuddled back up against Dorian, inhaling the other man’s scent as he lulled back into the cusp of consciousness.

Still somewhat awake, Garrett heard when a set of heavy footsteps made their way down the hall just beyond the door to his chambers. Sunlight now streamed into his room indicating that it was quite late in the morning. The big man moved to sit up and that was when all hell broke loose.

The door to his room was kicked open a familiar figure filling the now open doorway as a rich baritone voice shouted loudly, “Cousin! What in the Maker’s name are you still doing in bed this late in the morning? Oh…” Aiden Amell’s lips pulled upwards into a devilish smile as Dorian bolted upright looking around bewildered. “Hey…that’s not Fe…”

“Get the hell out!” Garrett’s bellow was bolstered by the mind-blast he shot at his cousin which blew the arcane-warrior back off of his feet and sent him crashing through Marian’s door across the hall.

“Who was that,” Dorian asked as he turned to pin Garrett with a wide eyed gaze. The big man was already out of bed and half-way into his clothing when suddenly Marian’s equally enraged shouted echoed out.

“AIDEN! …Maker! Krem? What in the nug-shit-soaked-hell is going on?”

“Marian good to see you my dearest cousin and your…friend, Krem is it? Nice to meet you too!”

With Dorian close behind Garrett barged into his sister’s chambers to find Marian kneeling over their older cousin with a sever frown on her face and a dagger in her hand. Krem stood not far behind, watching uncertainly with his sword drawn and ready.

“What’s happened,” another voice yelled as Tara came charging in. The Inquisition leader skidded to a stop then sighed. “Remember last night when I told you I had something important to tell you? It was that your cousin was coming. Surprise!”

“Thank you Inquisitor, that’s all well and good but Marian could you let me up now please?” The warrior woman stood back and Garrett helped to heft his equally tall cousin back onto his feet. Aiden rolled his neck and for a moment the cousins all took a moment to survey one another.

The Hawke’s had not seen Aiden since his visit with the royal couple to Kirkwall years ago. He looked well enough. The once thickly muscled man had grown somewhat leaner in his build and his hair held a touch of grey along the sides. His eyes however were as black and blazing with life as always. He smiled widely at his newfound audience, “I am glad to see you both well…very well,” he added with a wink in Garrett’s direction earning him an eye roll from his younger cousin.

“Why are you here,” Marian asked as she rubbed a hand over her bloodshot eyes and moved away to begin strapping on her armor.

“I am here to see what kind of trouble my little cousins are in of course,” Adien emphatically claimed. After a twin set of skeptical glares knifed into him the big man then chuckled. “Okay fine, I am now the official ambassador of the Ferelden royal family. Very stuffy, are you both satisfied?”

“But why have you come here,” Garrett hedged, knowing that Aiden did not leave his adoptive sister’s side lightly.

“Honestly, there is some interesting trouble brewing and both Serena and Alistair wish to have a hand in its prevention. Being royals and what not they are unable to travel as easily as I am so they sent me in their stead, for the time being anyway.”

“What kind of trouble,” Dorian asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.

“I like his voice,” Aiden said candidly as he eyed the shirtless mage leaning in the obliterated doorway. “And in answer to your question fine Sir, the kind of trouble that could only come from Marian in a dress.”

“What?”

 

 

“This is going to end in disaster,” Tara groaned as she paced before Cullen’s desk in the Commander’s office. “I have to figure out who to take with me to assist in stopping the assassination of the Empress of Orlais, at a damned party! With wine and frills and…just…just, so many people! The killer could be anyone, Cullen! I need people with me who can cope with that kind of environment and simultaneously keep up the Inquisition’s appearance!”

“Well then I guess you’ll have to leave Iron Bull and Marian behind for sure,” the blonde haired commander said with a chuckle.

“Oh no, Marian Hawke is going! Apart from Cassandra she in the only other one woman wrecking crew I’d want at my back if this all goes south fast.”

“Having the Campion of Kirkwall along would not hurt either. Sure Kirkwall went to shit but Garrett fought off a Qunari and is a renowned do-gooder.”

“Aiden their cousin, Maker preserve me, will have to come as he is the royal ambassador of Ferelden…somehow…perhaps he can seduce some valuable information out of someone for us?” Tara heaved a sigh as she dramatically threw her arms up into the air. “Though I’ll admit the Hawke siblings and their cousin all in one room could be a disaster in and of itself. Did you hear the way the three of them carried on?”

“I think all of Skyhold heard them,” Cullen concurred with the roll of his eyes, “but to their credit the Hawkes were always the very essence of decorum when I viewed them at functions in Kirkwall…even without court training or knowledge, those two fit right in. Do not worry overly much about having them along.”

“Okay, so I shall have them, Aiden, my councilors…do you think Bull’s Chargers would be a good addition?”

“They could go as your retainers,” Cullen offered. “Then if anything were to happen they would be nearby.”

“Good idea…let’s see. Who else could I trust to be in the actual ballroom…Dorian! Of course, not only would he be a wonderful asset he would absolutely love it!”

“I know you have a certain fondness for the man but do remember we are going to Orlais, and he is Tevinter. Proudly Tevinter.”

“Are we going to fight about him again,” Tara asked her gaze sharpening as she cocked an eyebrow at the still armor clad commander.

“No,” Cullen responded holding up his hands. “I just want you to understand that not everyone will be as receptive to Dorian as you are.”

“I know that dear…I mean…” Tara blushed as did her coat clad counterpart. The two of them had not had much time alone as of late. Not that this had dampened Tara’s own interests in any way but sometimes she worried that Cullen’s priorities had again shifted to exclusively include his work.

“It has been a long time it seems since you called me anything other than Commander…I like it…I have, missed it.”

“G-good. That’s good, I mean…I have missed it as well,” Tara admitted softly.

“Perhaps once this Orlais business is all settled, you and I might find a bit more time to escape,” Cullen offered with a smile. “Even a simple walk in the garden or along the ramparts? I shall see to it that I make time.”

“I know that we both have our duties and that they cannot be neglected Cullen it is alright…”

“No,” the tall blonde stated firmly cutting Tara off, “they cannot be neglected. But…we are still people outside of our positions here and ten minutes…just long enough to…ten minutes to speak with you is just as important as ten hours training the soldiers.”

At that the petite woman flushed anew. “Cullen…”

“I mean it,” the commander said as he rounded his desk and caught the shorter woman’s chin in his fingers. He hesitated then an instant later he kissed her. It was a soft chaste thing but it made Tara’s knees go weak all the same. Cullen pulled back then placed another short peck on the tip of her nose. “Now, go, get some rest. We have a long journey ahead of us. Goodnight Tara.”

“Goodnight Cullen.”


	9. You're Hot Then You're Cold

Cullen stared out the window of the carriage and tugged at his suit collar. He was sweating profusely already and it had nothing to do with the daunting prospect of pretending to be polite to any dignitaries. His head had also begun to hurt and his hands stiffen as another round of lyrium withdrawal began to settle in. It couldn’t be happening at a more inopportune time.

“Should I summon a healer?” Aiden Amell’s rich voice was soft as he asked the question from his place upon the seat across from the Commander. 

Cullen shifted his eyes away from the night sky and towards the lanky arcane-warrior. The older man looked downright deadly in his ebony, silver and royal blue suit, and for a moment Cullen’s pride urged that he shrug Aiden off as he did the others. 

“No…it is not an illness. The episodes come and go. I will be fine, but I appreciate your concern…and your discretion.” 

At that Aiden cocked a brow.

“I have thus far kept your secrets Cullen,” the large man said with a small grin, “I’ll not become a gossip over the course of this little carriage ride…but you do not look well, he added more seriously. “What’s going on? Can I do anything?” 

Only Cassandra knew about his lyrium addiction and the battle he had been embroiled in since leaving Kirkwall. It was a self-imposed stipulation one that she called honorable. Staring into Aiden Amell’s pitch black eyes he wondered what the former Grey Warden Commander would think of it all. Would he view him as reckless, or worse, weak?

But Aiden had been there when the Ferelden Circle had fallen to demons. The arcane-warrior had already seen him trapped, praying and begging for deliverance amidst a pile of corpses of his brothers in arms. What was more, Aiden had undoubtedly heard from his cousins about his involvement as Meredith’s loyal lapdog for several years thereafter. 

In comparison, admitting that there was a chance that he could throw up on someone important in front of the Empress of Orlais would probably be met with applause. 

Cullen drew in a shaky breath before leveling his gaze with the man seated across from him. “I gave up lyrium after Kirkwall. At times I suffer from withdrawals. The headaches are the worst part of it and are usually accompanied by nausea.”

A still silence settled within the confines of the carriage. Then suddenly Aiden leaned forward to lay his hands over Cullen’s. 

It was then that the Commander became aware that he was clenching both hands into tight fists.

“Breathe,” Aiden whispered as he then moved his hands up to cradle Cullen’s face. 

It was odd to the Commander having someone he knew was a natural born killer touch him so tenderly. Then suddenly the pain thrumming through his skull dulled as healing magic eased into him. Cullen let out a small groan, his eyes falling closed as he leaned more fully into Aiden’s touch. “You should let Garrett know,” the black eyed man suggested. “He could ease your suffering far better than any other. And you already know you can trust him.”

“The fewer people who know the better, besides…your cousins already know of how poorly I did as second in command in Kirkwall. I’d prefer they not know that I’m already failing as Commander of the Inquisition’s forces.” 

At that the hands upon Cullen’s face stiffened and then fell away.

“You know, if I wasn’t so proud of myself for using any semblance of healing magic on you just now, I’d punch you right in your pretty boy face.” 

The Commander blinked then opened his mouth to retort but was halted when Aiden held up a hand. The big arcane-warrior sighed and pinched the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. “Without delving in too deep, as we haven’t the time presently, you’re doing the right thing. Your soldiers trust you, the Inquisitor trusts you and I’m asking you to trust me and what I am telling you. Now, we have stuffy nobles to entertain with our decided lack of refinement.” 

Aiden clapped the Commander on the shoulder and turned to open the door to the carriage as it came to a stop outside the palace. Cullen abruptly reached forward to catch Aiden’s arm at the elbow, halting the lanky warrior’s departure. 

“Why did you step down as Commander of the Grey?” 

The words had burst from him before he could stop himself. It was something that had never been explained to him, not that it was his business. But as a Commander himself, especially now…something in Cullen needed to know, to hear…hear what he was unsure. 

They had needed Aiden when the first circle fell, he could have led them, why hadn’t he answered their summons? Why had he stepped down right when people needed someone they could follow?

At his question Aiden’s lips pressed into a thin unamused line. 

“Zevran has been missing since…Kirkwal,” the big warrior whispered. “He was there, as you may remember, during the battle against Meredith. What happened to him there or after my cousins and I were never able to find out. I…began drinking rather heavily after that but I kept up appearances, was able to function. But I knew I wouldn’t last as a leader as deep in my cups as I was. I stepped down and became a recluse until my sister gave me a good shake and a new purpose first as her arcane-advisor and now as her ambassador to the Inquisition. So there, a secret for a secret, and we are even.”

That said, Aiden lighted from the carriage and swallowed the rising tears, his usual dashing grin sliced apart his lips as he swaggered over to where the Inquisitor was addressing her team.

“You all look marvelous!” Tara’s exclaimed as she smacked her hands together loudly as she beamed at the men and women before her.

“Thank you Milady,” Aiden chimed as he stepped forward past Iron Bull to bow to the Inquisitor. “And might I say you look utterly ravishing. The colour red certainly suits you!”

Cullen then reached the group and stepped forward to place himself directly between Tara and the suit clad arcane warrior. “Perhaps we should head inside, Lady Inquisitor?” He said in a businesslike tone. “I fear we are about to be late.”

“Right,” Aiden retorted rolling his eyes as he dragged out the word. “Very subtle Commander, make sure you keep that going while we’re on the lookout for an assassin.”

“Yeah yeah,” Marian muttered as she shoved her older cousin into motion. “Why don’t we get you inside seeing as you have the expert experience with assassins. You can torment Cullen with your considerable charms later.”

“You shouldn’t let him get under your skin Mar,” Garrett muttered as the suit-clad mage moved to stand at his sister’s side while the others moved on ahead.

“Tara and Cullen have a budding romance going on and Aiden, even if he is family, needs to keep his nose and whatever else out of it.” 

“Why,” the big man asked with an unamused chuckle, “because of everything that happened with Zevran? You think that he’s some callous love destroying lout now?”

“He was always a lout but at least he was at one time a merry one…”

“For the Maker’s sake let the rest of us go, Marian! You don’t have to champion everyone else’s love life just because you got burned. I am actually, believe it or not, doing okay at the moment. And Aiden will come around. Let. It. Go. Now, we have a job to do.” Garrett’s quiet tirade ended and without even the hint of a backwards glance he strode off after the others. For her part Marian inwardly struck herself several times, her heart pounding at the bare brutal truth in his words. How long had he been mulling that over?

Why was she always snapping like some attack dog?

‘Because the best defense is a good offense’, she offered herself silently. 

“You look very nice if I might say so, milady.” 

Marian started as Krem’s voice and warm breath tickled the side of her currently exposed throat. She turned her head to face the warrior and found herself blinking as her eyes beheld the wonder that was Cremisius Aclassi clad in fine clothing. The warrior woman blushed slightly and nervously crossed her arms as she cleared her throat.

“Thank you Krem. You look rather dashing yourself,” she replied her eyes wandering up his chest then to his handsome face.

Without her heavy armor to cover her figure Marian was quite the feminine beauty. Her angular physic was draped in crimson, black, and star-sky blue. The suit was tailored so that it accented her waist, and for his part, Krem could not stop imagining getting the opportunity to lay his own gloved hand upon that line as they danced.

If she even would agree to dance…or knew how to dance…

“You’re staring Cremisius,” Marian whispered as her right hand moved up to rub at the back of her neck. She longed to tug at her usual braid, but her hair was currently piled atop her head in a delicate coronet. 

She half expected Krem to run right then but the usually shy man surprised her and instead bestowed her with a grin.

“I can’ help it. And trust me I have tried…but I always end up looking at you…May I accompany you inside?” He offered her his arm then, watching her with gentle eyes to see what she might do next. Those eyes that had seen her at her darkest moment only a few days prior, now beckoned her silently to trust them.

Garrett’s words rang loudly in the back of her mind. Her own heart swelled with a shocking jolt. Fear echoed the warning that the kindness in those eyes was all too familiar. But something small and tender inside her yearned with all of its pitiful might.

She took his arm.

 

 

“You should save me a dance,” Tara said quietly as she and Cullen moved down the staircase towards the announcing tier of the ballroom.

“What?”

“Dance. Will you dance with me later perhaps,” the Inquisitor asked again with a dazzling smile. 

He had to figure out what was going on. He had to help find this assassin hiding somewhere in the palace. He had to be in control of the Inquisition’s people and their safety should anything go wrong. He had to protect Tara…and she wanted to know if he would dance?

Maker preserve him he didn’t know how!

“No,” he said out of reflex. 

Instantly Cullen regretted his response as he watched those star drunk eyes fade and Tara whirled back to face the crowd. “Sorry. Silly question…” she said hastily before descending onto the main floor as they were introduced to the court. With the capable flourish of a practiced official the petite silk clad woman exchanged pleasantries with the Empress before moving off to one of the walks around the ballroom. Cullen made to follow her but ended up being positioned by Cassandra to stand watch from a far corner.

 

 

“Quite the party eh, I mean it is nothing like the balls back in Tevinter but, still to be back in the thick of the debauchery and the satins and the silks and devastatingly handsome men, namely myself, in fitted suits!”

“You like being here,” Garrett said with a wide smile as Dorian Pavus gestured dramatically at the events unfolding all around them with his glass of champagne.

“I do,” the mustached mage said curtly but with an answering grin. “I love the grand game…it is disgusting and underhanded and I cannot stomach it every day but at my heart I suppose I do love it somehow.”

“Sounds like a tragic affair,” the burly Ferelden responded as he swiped a glass of wine from a passing tray.

“It is but I am currently searching for something far less tragic, and I think I might actually be finding it.” Dorian realized how serious his words had sounded and he blushed, choking a bit as he tried to take a drink to buy himself time to react.

“You’d better slow down and assist me in catching this assassin if you want to continue to explore said less-tragic-something.”

“Now you’re starting to sound as pessimistic as your sister Garrett,” both mages turned to find Aiden moving to stand alongside them. The dark haired Amell was looking exceptionally dangerous and devastating this evening, Dorian noted. Dorian briefly dragged his eyes over the older man before turning his gaze back to the Champion at his left.

Garrett looked astounding in his own deep crimson and gold garb, and he merely shrugged off his cousin’s teasing with a casual grin. “I thought it was a family trait that just showed up once you started to get old.”

“Hey I am young, where it counts,” Aiden added with a wink towards Dorian.

“And is that not a relief!” 

Garrett’s eyes widened as a semi-familiar form appeared behind his lanky cousin. At the sound of that ever taunting accented voice Aiden whirled around and found himself looking down at Zevran Arainai. The elf cocked an eyebrow up at his long time on-again off-again lover and smiled lightly.

“Zev,” Aiden choked as several emotions flashed through his coal black eyes. Then steel settled in those depths. “What are you doing here,” the warrior hissed, stepping closer to the elven man, momentarily forgetting Garrett and Dorian’s existence.

“I would assume that I am here for similar reasons that you are mi amor,” the blonde purred as his eyes craftily darted off towards a shadowed hallway leading back into the palace. Aiden swallowed hard his heart pounding in his chest. There were so many things he wanted to ask Zevran, but he also knew his lover best. So he choked back his rage and shock then nodded.

“I will return,” the coal eyed Amell said briskly to his cousin before following after the former Crow. Dorian blinked once the two had gone then cast a quizzical glance up to Garrett’s surprised gaze.

“Did your cousin know that man…they seemed to have tension?”

“That elf is why my dear cousin has ‘expert experience’ with assassins. He tried to kill Aiden and the current set of Ferelden monarchs when they all first met…”

“And then? They became, friends,” the Tevinter pried.

“Yes, let us say that.”

 

 

“You look well mi amor.”

“And you look alive,” Aiden retorted sounding unamused as he followed the elven man into a dark room. They walked in silence to the center of the room. The arcane-warrior sweeping a hand back locking them in before he whispered, “Why did you not send word to me?”

“I thought you wanted to know why I was here,” the blonde shot back playfully. Aiden crossed the small gap between the two of them and abruptly gripped the front of Zevran’s decoratively stitched shirt and lifted him from his feet.

“Naturally,” the dark man hissed as his dangerous eyes pierced into the assassin’s own golden gaze. “I have not heard from you in years…Kirkwall went to shit and that’s the last place I knew of you being…I thought you might be dead Zev.”

“Might be? So you really do trust my abilities! I am flattered beyond words.”

“Damnit Zevran!” Aiden’s fist slammed into the wooden shelf beside him, knocking several novels from their place and splintering away a corner of the frame.

“I am sorry,” the elf said slowly as his hands wove up to grasp either side of Aiden’s face. “I knew that it would torture you but it was safer for everyone if I vanished for a bit. I missed you as well and it was no easy task to stay away from you. I crept to the castle twice so I could just catch a glimpse of your face as you slept. I would imagine the warmth of your lips and I would yearn for you many nights… But I had to stay away. And now here I am, and here you are.”

“…You have to know that I cannot let you assassinate the Empress,” Aiden said slowly his body tensing.

“You misunderstand mi amor, I am not here to kill her majesty.”

“Truly,” the dark arcane-warrior asked hesitantly.

“I would not lie to you Aiden. I could not.” Another tense minute passed between the two then suddenly the raven haired man gripped Zevran’s hips and crushed their lips together.

The kiss was as fierce as the warrior himself and the elf sank into it. His hands roamed Aiden’s muscular chest freely, pulling aside buckles and fabric until he was able to wrench back and place a precise bite at the joint of the other man’s neck. The warrior growled and moved further into the room until he found a small seating area. He pressed Zevran back onto a sofa, looming over his smaller lover as he began divulging him of his clothing.

“We do not have time for this mi amor…”

“Do not tease me Arainai,” Aiden growled his dark eyes sparking in the shaft of moonlight filtering overhead. “If you did not expect this to happen you would have not sought me out and we both know it.”

“You know me so well,” Zevran said with a leering grin. Abruptly the nimble assassin wrapped his legs tightly around his lover’s waist and reversed their places. Aiden first attempted to get back up, but then the elven man’s hands hooked into the now loosened band of his pants and the big man stilled. Black hair fell back as the warrior suppressed a deep groan when his member was finally freed. “I forget how big you are mi amor,” the elf murmured as he dragged his lips across the edges of Aiden’s already swollen head.

“Maker,” the lanky man moaned as his big hands settled into the silky locks of Zevran’s hair as it hung down to tickle his thighs. “I have missed you Zev…not just this…I just…I was so worried…” 

So lonely…so broken…

“And I am sorry for causing you to worry,” Zevran said his voice tight with emotion. “But, I am here now mi amor. Please, let me love you now as we have both been longing for.”

“Yes,” Aiden hissed out as the elf’s mouth swallowed his length. His massive chest heaved as pleasure coursed through his entire body. It had been so long. There had been nights when the arcane-warrior had wanted to lose himself in the talents of another. To feel even a shred of the passion that he shared with the former Crow. He had never fallen prey to that desire. Not even when his head was swimming with so much drink he wished for death, for any reprieve from the loneliness that haunted him night and day. No, he never had another, and now that Zevran was here with him, he wouldn’t have traded anything for this.

The elf tactfully drove the other man crazy with his tongue, teeth and lightly wandering hands. Aiden felt the past few years fall away from his mind and body. Aching age old scars warmed until they no longer held hostage over him. The elf felt his lover’s balls clench and hollowed his cheeks to increase the suction of his mouth in anticipation of Aiden’s climax. But the dark warrior suddenly ripped him away, settling the startled assassin in his lap and giving him a much more languid kiss than before.

“Mi amor, why did you…”

“I want more,” Aiden gasped a moment before he tore the remnants of Zevran’s clothing away and moved his muscular arms up to hold the elf’s own trembling flesh level with his mouth. He devoured his lover then, relishing the feeling of the assassin’s nails as they scraped across his scalp in response to his administrations. When Zevran’s own arousal was nearly out of control he too tried to twist away not wanting the interlude to end just yet, but Aiden merely tightened his grip, holding the smaller elven man captive to his pleasure.

“A-Adien! Mi amor! Please…por favor, aun no! Déjame sentirte…” Again Aiden moved with all of the grace and strength of a lion and Zevran found himself on his back, his lover looming over him with a predatory smile stretching his lips.

“You want me inside you Zev?”

“Si,” the tattooed man panted. “Please Aiden!”

“On one condition,” the big man murmured as he leaned down to nibble at the sensitive edge of the other man’s ear, the tip of his erection grinding teasingly against the elf’s entrance. 

“Anything…”

“Anything?”

“Yes mi amor. Whatever you desire of me, you know I would do anything for you. I love you Aiden Amell.”

“I want you to come home…” Aiden rasped, still kissing the elf’s lips as he spoke the words he heart had been bursting to say. “…come live with me please, Zev. I cannot do this…I cannot wait years to see you again. I was a mess when I thought you might be dead…only the most stubborn stupid kind of hope kept me… If we are going to be together then we can be together but this half-life…Zevran I’m not getting any younger. The Taint…you cannot imagine how much worse it has gotten, and one day I will be lost to it. I want a life before that time comes, as selfish as that sounds, I do. And I want that life with you, and if you cannot or do not want that I understand…but I’m drawing a clear line with you. I let you go after the Blight, I managed without you after Kirkwall fell and now I’m asking you to stay with me. Please, Zev. Come home with me?”

The elven man sat up slightly, one hand reaching up to cup the side of Aiden’s face. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” the warrior continued his broad shoulders shaking as a sob bubbled free. “I have waited years to tell you this…believed for so long that I would never get the chance, and now I just need to know what you want.”

“Mi amor…” Zevran sighed his eyes falling away from Aiden’s for a moment. “I want to be with you…I do! But,” another heavy sigh fell from the elf’s lips as he moved to sit up, forcing Aiden to sit back as well.

“But…?”

“…You should know why I am here.” 

Instantly coal black eyes narrowed into penetrating slits. 

“It is…Morrigan is here, Aiden…she is here with your son.”


	10. Hold the Hostilities and Pass the Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang delves deeper into the assassination plot and the liquor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long while since I was able to post since my old laptop took a dump on me. Now that I have a new beast I am hoping to getting back to the re-write and semi regular posting again. Thank you for reading <3

“Where are you going?” 

 

Marian ceased her stride, casting a glance back at Krem as he watched her over the rim of his freshly appropriated glass. 

 

“The dancing has started,” the auburn haired beauty said plainly. “The Inquisitor herself is serenading Gaspard’s sister out there on the floor and people are moving into their cliques. Which means that the staff will be going back about their business and if I have learned anything from being around nobles, it is that their servants usually know more about what goes on inside the walls of a household than anyone else. So, I am going to go see if I can’t eavesdrop or steal something of importance to our cause.”

 

“I shall go with you,” the lieutenant offered setting his drink aside.

 

“Two people will be less inconspicuous…”

 

“And you getting jumped alone would be disastrous. Besides I happen to be a rather good spy myself. I’ll be helpful, I promise.” Marian frowned but realized that Krem was probably correct. The warrior woman sighed then nodded her head towards a nearby stairwell she had seen many of the staff moving through. 

 

The two walked at a leisurely pace, nodding polite hellos at other party goers and craftily feigning disinterest in any servants they happened to pass. All around them were whispers of intrigue and hushed opinions about the current seated ruler of Orlais. It was hard not to jump at the tidbits but both warriors were more intent to find the meat of the matter.

 

The duo finally came into the Hall of Heros and found that they were alone. Marian instantly moved to a door located at the end of the room. When she tried the handle however she found it locked. “Damnit…” the warrior whispered wishing that she’d had the foresight to bring a rogue along with her.

 

“Here, let me have a go at it,” Krem said as he edged in beside the dress clad woman and produced a lock pick from his jacket pocket. “Keep an eye out, this could take me a bit.”

 

“Okay,” Marian said feeling useless as she moved to peer out at the adjacent hallway. For a few tense minutes all that the warrior could hear was the not-so-distant merry making coming from the ballroom and the metallic grind of Cremisius’ pick against the lock. Then the clear click of footsteps sounded from the far end of the hall. 

 

“Krem…” Marian whispered as she pulled back from the doorway, “someone is coming.”

 

“I’ve almost got it,” the Charger Lieutenant muttered back.

 

“There’s no time,” Marian hissed, turning to drag Krem back up onto his feet just as the lock clicked open. In one smooth move the suit-coat clad warrior slipped an arm around the auburn haired beauty’s waist and whirled them both into the room beyond, shutting the door softly and placing himself against it. Krem waited until the footsteps moved past then exhaled a small breath and turned his face to grin at Marian.

 

“And you didn’ want to bring me!” 

 

The warrior woman stared at the charming brunette and blushed as she caught the spicy scent of his skin. His right arm was still securely around her middle and she could feel the muscle of his upper arm despite the layer of fabric between them. How long had it been since she was held in such a way?

 

Krem’s gaze met and held Marian’s, his heart rising until it became stuck in his throat. Those eyes, they were so beautiful and yet filled with so much turmoil…then, something else, a burning glint that struck fire in the most primal part of the lieutenant’s mind.

 

Suddenly the doorknob behind them moved and the barrier began to swing open. Cremisius reacted without thinking. His arm around Marian’s waist tightened, his opposite hand moving up to the nape of her neck, pressing her forward until their lips met. He hoped that whoever was about to discover them would ignore two ‘lovers’ having a private moment. 

 

“Oh! I do hope I am not interrupting.” 

 

The familiar voice of Tara Trevelyan instantly made the two warriors pull apart and turn twin sets of wide eyed gazes upon the petite rogue’s smiling face.

 

“Inquisitor,” Marian stammered, her face turning bright pink as she attempted to explain. 

 

Tara held up a hand halting the taller woman’s words.

 

“It’s alright, I was only jesting. Good thinking on your part, pretending to be paramours seeking privacy!”

 

“Yes, that’s exactly what…you get it Boss,” Krem hastily said, his own face a fierce crimson.

 

“Well then, have either of you found anything?”

 

“Not yet, we’d only just broken in here before you showed up.”

 

“I see, well I managed to speak with the Grand Duke. Gaspard…he, had some interesting things to say. He seems to believe that an elven woman named Briala is planning to ruin the peace talks tonight. Which means that the elven servants would probably be a fair bet as well so thank you for saving me the trouble of having to break that lock, now shall we?” 

 

The leader of the Inquisition nimbly swept past the couple and made her way towards the back of servant’s quarters. 

 

Eager to escape the awkward tension quickly rising between them Marian hastily followed after, Krem trailing along a few paces behind.

 

The trio continued into the bowels of the palace. Everything seemed to be perfectly in order. Right up until Tara turned a corner and nearly slammed into a Venatori agent.

  
  
  
  


Zevran had never seen Aiden Amell so still.

 

The big man was currently seated at one far end of the low sofa they both occupied. His elbows were braced upon his thighs as he leaned forward, hands folded in front of his mouth, his dark eyes staring at something far beyond the wall before him. 

 

He had held that stance for a full ten minutes since the elf had divulged that their old associate was currently in the vicinity.

 

“Why?” 

 

The word was uttered in a low voice rife with emotions ranging from anger to what sounded suspiciously like sadness. 

 

Aiden sat back and roughly rubbed his hand over his face as he let out a harsh hissing sigh. 

 

“She asked you to be here didn’t she?”

 

“She did. I had been in Starkhaven for a few months when I received a letter. Morrigan told me that she had unearthed rumors of a possible assassination attempt on her employer…”

 

“She is employed by the Empress,” Aiden whispered in disbelief.

 

“Yes,” the tanned elf confirmed gently. “She is her Majesty’s court mage. It is a favored position that allows her much freedom from what I understand. Yet it has also put her in the way of harm. Morrigan fears that whoever is trying to kill the Empress would also target her, or possibly her son.”

 

“So she sent for you…to watch her back.”

 

“I wanted to protect your son Aiden,” Zevran admitted in an unflinching tone, “and if I had to also protect her to do it then so be it.” 

 

Again silence fell heavily between the two men. 

 

Then abruptly Aiden rose to his feet and began redressing with a mechanical efficiency.

 

“Do you know where she is,” the lanky arcane-warrior asked briskly as he pulled his shirt back into order. 

 

Zevran hurried to also reclaim his clothing as he responded.

 

“I would imagine that she is with the Empress…wait, mi amor you cannot just barge up to the…” 

 

The elf suddenly realized that his lover was no longer listening to him and doubled his efforts to re-button his jacket as the big man began striding away. “Aiden. Mi amor wait! AIDEN!”

 

He had the same singular intensity he had in the midst of battle. 

 

Even as Zevran chased after the tall man he knew that there was little he could do to stop him. 

 

Aiden stepped back out into the garden the still disheveled looking assassin not far behind.

 

Dorian spotted the duo and elbowed Garrett as he muttered, “Your cousin has returned to the party with a certain  _ vengeance _ .” 

 

The big mage turned, his eyes widening as he took in Aiden’s positively murderous demeanor and the nearly frantic expression on Zevran’s face.

 

“Maker take me...Aiden!” 

 

The sound of Garrett’s low voice boomed out over the garden, causing everyone to start and thankfully caused his older cousin to halt his stride. 

 

The big Ferelden then quickly made his way over to the dark eyed man, Dorian and Zevran not far behind. 

 

The shorter elven man instantly gripped onto his lover’s right elbow as he reached him, as if he could physically prevent the massive warrior from moving again.

 

“What is it Garrett,” Aiden snapped causing the younger mage to raise an eyebrow.

 

“I was just wondering where you might be going, that’s all.”

 

“My  _ son _ is in this palace, and so is the bitch that bore him.” The arcane-warrior’s words blew the wind from his younger cousin’s sails, leaving Garrett momentarily speechless. “And Zevran is here  _ guarding  _ her life against tonight’s  _ festivities _ apparently. I have just only learned this…I had no idea what happened to her or the child after the Archdemon was defeated Garrett.”

 

The hulking mage’s heart broke for his family member. He had never spoken in length to Aiden about what had happened regarding the strange witch named Morrigan. But he had known that his cousin had sired a child under rather unusual circumstances, a child that had vanished along with its mother years ago. “If you wish to seek out Morrigan then let us do so, but not now. Not like this Aiden. There is too much at stake, including her life tonight. Zevran, would you please return to your post. We shall accompany my cousin to the ballroom to resume our vigil. After this is done, please see to it that my cousin has an audience with this witch.”

 

Zevran could have cried he was so relieved, even more so when Aiden begrudgingly nodded his approval and heaved a deep steadying breath. “Until later mi amor,” the elf whispered, leaning in to kiss Aiden’s shoulder before moving back into the shadows of the Winter Palace.

 

“I will see Morrigan this night and I  _ will _ have answers,” Aiden growled threateningly. This time is was Garrett who nodded his acceptance before gently ushering his older cousin to move back inside. 

 

“For the meantime why don’t you go find Leliana and see if she has seen or heard anything?”

 

“Perhaps…perhaps that would be wise,” Aiden admitted with another smaller sigh. “I am sorry Cousin…I should be  _ helping _ you with this and instead…”

 

“It is alright Aiden. I understand, and so will Leliana. So go  _ talk _ to her, and just stay out of our way while we handle this assassin business.” The tall dark Amell’s lips twitched into an unwilling smile as the big man let out a huff of laughter.

 

“You always know just what to say Garrett…Dorian, watch his back. Or it is not Marian and all of her bluster whom you shall have to fear.” With that Aiden moved off his stance substantially less threatening than it had been minutes ago.

 

“I do not mean to ask this as an insult…” the sound of Dorian’s voice drew Garrett’s gaze away from his cousin’s broad back. The Tevinter mage hesitated, his own eyes briefly drooping to his half-full glass before he continued, “…is everyone in your family so troubled?”

 

“No. Actually I have a younger sister named Bethany who is completely happy with her life. She lives in my family’s old mansion and does charity work in Kirkwall. Everyone else is dead or well, you know.”

 

“Dear Maker what have I gotten myself into,” Dorian dramatically sighed before tossing back the remnants of his beverage. 

 

He caught the look that passed through Garrett’s gaze and realized that his jest had hit much deeper than he had intended. Quickly the Tevinter man set his glass down on a nearby window ledge and looped an arm around the hulking mage’s waist. 

 

“I am sorry. That was ill timed, and even more poorly executed. Will you accompany me to the ballroom so that I may dazzle you with my dancing abilities as an apology?”

 

Garrett’s face shifted into a smiling visage once again as the big mage said, “That sounds wonderful…but perhaps we should check with the others first. We have learned little from standing aimlessly in the garden, outside of my cousin’s personal issues.”

 

“What do you mean darling,” the Tevinter mage asked quirking an amused brow. “There were several instances where some very interesting dialogue was exchanged between the nobles flitting about. Including two gentleman who were discussing seeing a rather concerning spattering of what might be blood spotted on an ‘upper walkway’.”

 

“You are just telling me this now!”

 

“Calm yourself. I also happened to spot your sister, the Inquisitor, and Cremisius shadowing about the upper terrace while we were there. So I am assuming that whatever those gentlemen were speaking of, it is already being investigated. I suggest that our best course of action is to return to the ballroom, as you said, and ensure that the others have all rejoined the festivities safely.”

 

Garrett stood blinking at the smug looking mage at his side for a long moment before managing a retort. 

 

“And here I was, thinking that you were just getting yourself nice and sotted. That’s amazing Dorian!” 

 

The Tevinter waved off the other mage’s praise.

 

“Not at all! Tis merely a part of the grand game my dear, I was groomed to be so vigilant in social settings such as this.”

 

“Well I was not, and I happen to find your talent rather impressive,” the hulking Ferelden said as he pulled the shorter man into his side and gave him a small squeeze. “Shall we then,” Garrett then insisted motioning towards the ballroom’s exterior hallway.

 

The two men made their way back into the center of the palace. Once inside the ballroom they made a round of the upper walkway, stopping to check in with each stationed Inquisition member. To Garrett’s relief he saw that Aiden had found Leliana and the two were currently dancing and chatting their way around the ballroom floor. 

 

He was doubly relieved when he spotted his sister, along with Krem and the Inquisitor, standing around Commander Cullen.

 

Marian spotted the two mages and after exchanging a few more words she and Krem moved away from the two Inquisition heads. 

 

“Mar, what’s happening?”

 

“A lot, but at the same time I am not certain,” the warrior woman admitted in a hushed tone. “There are whispers everywhere…and several things have come to light…I dare not say more as there are also Venatori agents among the party goers.”

 

“Venatori,” Dorian and Garrett both repeated in muted tones. Krem nodded.

 

“Them as well as a contingent of Chevalier hired mercenaries…death it seems is around every corner and behind every mask.”

 

“Look,” Marian then said indicating towards the dancefloor. “Tara is getting into position…we should all get out there, I fear that hell is about to break loose. Be on your guard brother.”

 

“I shall see to his back,” Dorian said firmly before sending Garrett a charming grin and offering the hulking mage an arm. “Come. We shall place ourselves near your cousin should he and our beloved Spymaster require assistance.”

 

“And we should make certain we are watching Tara’s back,” Marian said as her hand found Krem’s before she all but dragged the Charger Lieutenant down to the dancefloor. 

 

The Inquisitor swayed through the throng of merrymakers with deceptively easy grace. Her sharp gaze moved along the shadows surrounding the Empress as Celene watched the festivities below her. 

 

A woman dressed in decadent purples with eyes like a cat suddenly appeared at the Orlesian ruler’s side. 

 

The new arrival’s golden gaze fell upon Tara, freezing her in place.

 

Suddenly an arm wrapped around the Inquisition leader’s waist and faster than she could blink Tara found herself swept up into the steps of a dance. Aiden Amell’s eyes did not meet hers as he said, “Do not allow her to alarm you. She is not the one who wishes to harm the Empress.”

 

“Aiden! Oh you scared me,” Tara chided as her eyes again moved to roam the room for Duchess Florianne. “Do you know that woman?”

 

“Her name is Morrigan. She is the Empress’ court mage…I traveled with her during the Blight. She is not one I would consider to be a good person but she is at her Mistress’ side to aide in her protection from what I understand. I take it you have news as to our true assassin?”

 

“Yes,” the petite rogue concurred. The tall arcane-mage then twirled his dance partner around lifting her completely off of her feet as he masterfully used the dance’s steps to give Tara a better view of her surroundings. As she spun, Tara’s eyes caught sight of Florianne de Chalons’ unmistakable golden locks moving up the stairs towards the landing where Celene stood. “It is Gaspard’s sister,” she whispered as she found her feet once again on the solid tile. “The blonde, there on the steps…and unless I am wrong she is making her move!”

 

Aiden’s eyes followed the Inquisitor’s line of sight, coming to rest on Morrigan, who was directly in the supposed assassin’s way. “Then so shall we,” the dark man growled an instant before he disengaged from the dance and began marching after the Duchess who was drawing closer and closer to the Wild’s witch. 

 

Morrigan’s gaze was unfortunately fixated on him however; she had not even spared anyone else a glance since he had begun moving.

 

_ Look at her _ , Aiden silently screamed as he practically jogged up the stairs. 

 

_ Look at the woman coming right at you! _

 

As he reached the landing Aiden noted that Tara had reached the top of the stairs across from him. 

 

Could either of them reach the Empress in time?

  
  



	11. Tango

“Your Majesty, behind you!” 

 

Tara’s voice rang out over the noise of the crowd, and for the briefest of moments, time stood still. 

 

Florianne darted forward, shoving past the yellow eyed Morrigan as she brandished a cruel dagger. 

 

The Inquisitor also shot forward drawing her own blade from the inner fold of her jacket. From the opposite end of the landing Aiden Amell charged after the duchess, his eyes widening as multiple masked figures bled from the shadows around them.

 

The time of whispered intrigue was past.

 

And that was just fine with the midnight haired arcane-warrior. Aiden slammed into the cluster of attackers. 

 

The first man he encountered he gripped by the wrist, breaking his arm with a quick snap, before slamming the man’s own dagger back through his throat. 

 

With deceptive ease he then twisted the next attacker’s head around until his neck gave way like a branch. 

 

Then he was before Morrigan, facing down several more knife wielding upstarts. 

 

With a terrifying grin pulling up the edges of his mouth Aiden lifted a hand, and produced his magical blade of fire and lightning. “Come on then!”

 

On the dancefloor below more Ventaroi agents produced blades, a few quickly slashing into the throats and abdomens of their unsuspecting victims. Dorian cast Garrett a piercing look, before whirling alongside the healer. The duo merged their lightning spells into a merciless chain.

 

Most of the Venatori around them fell instantly.

 

Then Dorian cast a final look at his counterpart before moving towards the Empress. 

 

Healing magic filled the air as Garrett charged forward, saving the lives of several bleeding dignitaries.

 

From her place above the merrymakers Empress Celene let out a terrified scream of pain as Florianne’s knife dug into her side.

 

Then Tara was upon the duchess. 

 

The petite rogue leapt into the fray, exchanging several blows with Gaspard’s sister before the blonde hastily disengaged and fled to a nearby door. Tara then turned to assist Aiden, but found that a strange elven man had joined the warrior in his fight. 

 

“Go,” the big man roared as he kicked another foe back into the awaiting blades of the elf. “Do not let her escape Inquisitor!”

“We are with you,” Marian’s voice sounded as Tara turned to give chase. As she passed a fallen guard at the door Tara bent to divulge him of his bow and arrows before moving out into the private gardens.

 

Krem and Marian came to a skidding stop just behind Tara as the Inquisitor found herself facing a locked gate, behind which Florianne was laughing mercilessly. 

 

“You are a clever woman Inquisitor, and a fine dance partner, but that is where your usefulness ends. Corypheus will ascend to godhood, and for being his most loyal subject  _ I _ shall then rule Thedas!”

 

“You cannot really believe that Corypheus would allow you such power, especially when you  _ failed _ to kill the Empress,” Tara shouted back, notching her own arrow.

 

“But I can still kill you!”

 

Both women loosed their arrows simultaneously. 

 

Tara ducked and rolled forward beneath Florianne’s explosive shot, which sent the Inquisitor’s fellows flying back, and fired a second round. 

 

Her first arrow flew harmlessly to the duchess’ right, the second grazed her throat. The blonde then leapt away running further into the gardens and out of Tara’s range. 

 

“Maker take it! Come back here!”

 

Marian and Krem got back onto their feet just as Garrett came barreling out of the palace with Iron Bull, Cullen and Leliana not far behind. “Excuse me ladies,” the big mage bellowed as he shot an ice spell at the metal gate crystalizing it.  Tara nimbly moved aside just as the hulking Hawke and Iron Bull shouldered their way through, opening the way for the others to spill down into the gardens.

 

Tara was the first to engage Florianne in combat just after the duchess sounded a war horn and summoned a contingent of warriors to her aide. 

 

The two archers took to the upper railing and the tops of pillars as their arrows flew in a deadly exchange. Garrett stuck close to Cullen watching the Commander’s back as the blond cleaved his way through foe after foe.

 

As they made their way down the stairs to the lower garden Krem paused by a statue, 

 

“We need weapons,” he lamented to Marian. 

 

A sword wielding Venatori agent charged up the steps towards the eldest Hawke who immediately landed a punishing kick to the man’s face. 

 

He fell back and the auburn haired woman collected his sword with a triumphant, “Got it! Just stay behind me until we find you something,” she told the stunned warrior beside her.

 

Another set of attackers came towards the pair and Krem’s gaze slid to the stone hammer fixed to the statue at his right.

 

He jumped up onto the lower portion of the statue’s base and with a loud cry ripped the hammer free turning to bring it down with a resounding boom through one man’s head as he tried to lunge at Marian’s back. 

 

The tall warrior woman dispatched the other Venatori then turned her gaze fully upon Cremisius for a moment. 

 

He flashed a wide grin as he hefted the stone maul up into his hands once again and cheekily said, “Got it!”

 

Dear Maker she was in trouble.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“That was quite the show!” Dorian’s laughter warmed everyone on the outer balcony as surely as the spiced rum punch they were all currently drinking. 

 

The Hawkes, the Tevinter, Bull and his Chargers, along with the other Inquisition advisors all stood together awaiting news from their leader who was currently meeting with the Empress to discuss the future of Orlais.

 

“Do you think the Orlesians will have a more favorable outlook on us Fereldens after that display,” Marian asked Leliana with a teasing nudge.

 

“I doubt it, but they will definitely think twice before challenging any of us…and what’s more, they  _ owe _ us a great deal. Hopefully they will not forget this,” the Spymaster said with a small smile.

 

“I do not think that Her Majesty will be forgetting us any time soon.” 

 

At the sound of Tara’s voice everyone fell silent and turned to look at the Inquisitor as she approached. 

 

“Maker…I dislike how quiet you all got just then, please do not let my appearance lull your merrymaking!”

 

“Here, here,” Garrett sang out as he raised his glass, causing the others to let out a hush of laughter. “How did the negotiations go?”

 

“They went well I suppose…it was a hard thing to use what we learned against Briala and Gaspard…They both had admirable goals and a rich history as  _ decent _ people…but Celene is the leader that Orlais wants and the ally the Inquisition needs…And thanks to you all she shall remain!” Marian moved to press a fresh glass into Tara’s hand then raised a hand to her companions.

 

“Why don’t we head back inside? We need to astound the Orlesians with our qualities now that the danger is past I am sure,” the warrior jested with a hearty grin. 

 

The others all followed her cue, and after a short shuffling line of congratulations had passed Tara found herself alone outside.

 

The night was mild and the air crisp. For a minute Tara was content to simply breathe. 

 

She missed this, the stillness that could surround you. It seemed that ever since the conclave there was always something happening. Some battle to be fought, a plot to unravel, someone in need.

 

_ ‘will it ever end’, _ she wondered. Then her mind turned to the Hawke siblings.

 

They had not asked for the lives they had either and yet here they were, still trying to make things turn out right. 

 

Maker she didn’t know if she could endure years of this. She already felt so tired. So worn.

 

“There you are.” Cullen’s voice jolted Tara from her thoughts. 

 

She whirled around to find her Commander striding towards her. A soft smile spreading his lips. 

 

“Marian said you were here…I was assisting the royal guard in handling the Venatori agents we apprehended. I should apologize…”

 

“For what,” the petite rogue asked as the tall blond came to stand before her.

 

“About Dorian…what I said about him back in Skyhold, telling you to not bring him. Many lives were saved because of him.”

 

“You should be telling him this…he would be thrilled to know that someone else in the Inquisition can see something other than his nationality.”

 

“Perhaps I will have to say something to him.” 

 

A long silence then stretched between them and Tara turned to rest her forearms on the balcony railing. 

 

“I know it may sound foolish but…I was worried about you tonight,” Cullen abruptly blurted out causing the rogue at his side to cast him an amused looking glance.

 

“That is…very sweet of you, Cullen. I was worried as well about everyone and everything. It all turned out alright though, another victory for the Inquisition!”

 

“Was that sarcasm?”

 

“Sarcasm, from me, never darling,” the young woman teased with a wink. The joke was however deadened by her endearment, which caused the Commander to flush in the moonlight.

 

“Listen…a-about earlier, when you asked me to dance…I know what I said and I regret it. I have never tried to dance, there has not been much opportunity to learn such a thing for me…but for you, I would like to try.” 

 

The petite rogue turned her gaze fully upon Cullen, her eyes sparking with that same excitement they had held at the beginning of the night.

 

“Truly,” she breathed.

 

In response the Commander moved to take the Inquisitor’s hand pulling her into a dancing pose. The two began to step and whirl along in time to the music drifting softly from the ballroom interior.

  
  


* * *

  
  


On another not so distant balcony another dance was occurring however this dance involved more silence and hard gazes than anything else. And if there were anything Morrigan had  _ not _ forgotten about Aiden Amell over the past few years, it was that the man could glare a dragon into submission. 

 

She had known he was in the Winter Palace, had known that having Zevran there would inevitably  _ complicate _ things but she had also hoped that the Warden would act according the situation. 

 

And he had.

 

“You know when I first sighted you coming up those stairs, I wondered if you might be intent on strangling me. Your face certainly gave that impression.”

 

“I still haven’t taken that option off the table.” 

 

At the arcane warrior’s deadpan delivery Morrigan could not help but flinch. 

 

Once they had been friends. 

 

Aiden had been the only one in their group during the Blight who had held back his judgement of her. He had even convinced his sister Serena to engage her mother in a fight in exchange for her freedom.

 

Then she had discovered The Ritual that would save the Warden’s lives in the ensuing fight against the Arch Demon.

 

First she had tried to propose her plan to Serena with disastrous results.

 

Then Aiden had found her crying in a hallway of the Denerim Keep and convinced her to divulge what had happened. 

 

Caught between risking the lives of Alistair and his sister and the off-hand chance that he could strike the final blow, Aiden had then taken it upon himself to engage with her in The Ritual. 

 

She had become pregnant that night…and vanished shortly afterward.

 

Morrigan knew that she had not done the right thing by her former friend, but what else could she have done? 

 

“I understand,” she said in a somewhat defeated tone.

 

“No. I do not think you do Morrigan,” Aiden shot back. 

 

The lanky man had been leaning back against the railing of the balcony, but now he straightened to tower at his full height over her. “I don’t think you have the ability to comprehend exactly how enraged I am just looking at you right now.”

 

“I can imagine that it is almost half as much Serena was the last time I saw her… _ she _ would have slit my throat by now. Your rage pales in comparison.”

 

“You were carrying _my_ _child_ you heartless…” 

 

Bitch.

 

He wanted to scream it to the Maker, this woman is a bitch, but he did not. 

 

Instead he paced away, then back again, breathing deeply as he tried to steady himself. 

 

He swallowed once, hard, and then attempted to speak again.

 

“What you did after…I  _ trusted _ you Morrigan…and then you vanished. I had no idea, none of us had  _ any _ idea where you went…and now here you are, with Zevran! Did you know that I thought he was  _ dead _ ?”

 

“No. I did not...”

 

“Of course you didn’t, because you care about nothing and no one outside of yourself!” 

 

That comment pricked the witch’s temper.

 

“Certainly not, that is why I offered myself as a means to keep you or your sister or your precious King from dying that day!” 

 

A stricken silence settled over the pair once again. “We shall get nowhere like this,” the witch whispered as she let out a tired sigh.

 

“You are right…I am…frustrated…I only just learned that you were here, from Zevran, who I also just learned was here and alive.”

 

“You stated that…you thought he might be dead?”

 

“I had not heard from him since I saw him in Kirkwall with my cousins after they assisted him in evading the Crows. Considering what happened there, it was not a far assumption that he might have perished.”

 

“That had to have been difficult…I am sorry. I am sorry that I caused you more distress by leaving as I did…I thought that it would be easier for you and safer for me.”

 

There it was out in the open. The truth behind her actions, perhaps not as rational as it had seemed back then but it was the truth all the same.

 

“Safer? You thought you would be safer pregnant on your own out in the world than with me, under the protection of the royal family of Ferelden?”

 

“You have to admit that your sister and Alistair hold no love for me…but yes, I know now that you would have taken care of me. I wanted you to be able to have your own life with Zevran. You deserved it after all that you had been through.” 

 

That statement caused some of Aiden’s anger to dissipate. He knew Morrigan could not lie to him easily and even after so many years, he could tell she wasn’t lying.

 

“I do not know if I deserve much in this world Morrigan but I did not deserve to have you leave as you did…it has made things very difficult.”

 

“And I fear I shall not be making things much easier, though I promise that this is my intention…”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I had another motive for making an appearance tonight as I did…I was hoping to join the Inquisition as an official consort of Orlais. I believe I can be of use against this Corypheus…also I have news that I do not trust with anyone outside of the Inquisition.” Aiden’s gaze again narrowed.

 

“News? What news?”

 

“It…it involves the Wardens…past that I cannot say right now. I would prefer to discuss it with the Inquisitor.”

 

“Morrigan I _ am _ a Warden…what is going on that you aren’t telling me?”

 

“Listen…it is late and there is much that we have to speak of. If you secure a position for me with the Inquisition, I shall tell you everything once we are safely from here. Is this acceptable?”

 

“On one other condition,” the black eyed man said sternly.

 

“And that is?”

 

“I want to meet my son.”

 


End file.
